


To Build a Home

by rightonthelimit



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Anal, Angst, Blood, Dirty Talk, Fingering, Gore, M/M, Mpreg, Oral, Sexual Content, Violence
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-10-24
Updated: 2015-05-27
Packaged: 2017-12-30 08:42:09
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 8
Words: 25,358
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1016505
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rightonthelimit/pseuds/rightonthelimit
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Harry stared out in front of himself, shock still not quite having left him. He was… He was pregnant.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Salty Sweet

**Author's Note:**

> This is not gonna be cute. Or pretty. Anyhoo, I’ve had this story rotting on my USB for close to 2 years. I decided to edit it a bit and then post it… Might as well share it, right? I did put time in it…

**A/N:**  This is not gonna be cute. Or pretty.

Anyhoo, I’ve had this story rotting on my USB for close to 2 years. I decided to edit it a bit and then post it… Might as well share it, right? I did put time in it…

**Please do not repost, recreate or translate.**

**Summary:** Harry stared out in front of himself, shock still not quite having left him. He was… He was pregnant.

 **Warnings:** Male pregnancy, blood/gore, sexual themes such as anal, oral, fingering, dirty talk, handjobs etc, violence in future chapters.

**To Build A Home**

Chapter 1

**Salty Sweet**

_‘Problem lies in the answer I won't find_  
_To the question I know that hasn't crossed your mind_  
 _That hasn't crossed your mind_  
 _Hope is dead, honey, honey, catch my breath_  
 _Put this one to rest,_  
 _Damn if I do it, bored if I don't_  
 _Note what is in this place when you're caught up in this chase’_

Harry James Potter was vomiting.

It was still early in the morning when he was on his knees in front of the toilet bowl, the night dying a slow death outside these stark white walls. The sky was painted in dark shades of purple and pink and blue and thick clouds ominously gathered – it was a predicament for a rainy day.

The manor was entirely silent with full exception of Harry’s ragged breaths, coughs and whimpers. He gagged and spat out another thick glob. It was a slimy and sour mixture of last night’s dinner, stomach acid and his own saliva. His green eyes were tearing up and his nose was wrinkled up in disgust.

You’d almost think he had grown accostumed to it. This had become standard procedure for the past 6 weeks after all.

He rested his forehead on the cool porcelain of the toilet for just a second. The room was spinning and he was only vaguely aware of a hand reaching out and flushing the toilet for him. Harry moaned weakly when the same spidery fingers, cool and slowly, touched him.

Had he not felt so drained, he would’ve been able to feel amusement. No one would ever expect this man, this gorgeous man with so many followers, admirers and so much power, to lower himself to watching someone puke and go so far to even flush their sick down the toilet for them.

This man was named Thomas Marvolo Riddle, and he was the current Minister of Magic.

Of course to Harry, Thomas wasn’t Minister Riddle, Mister Riddle, or even Thomas. He was Tom, just Tom. The same Tom Harry had gone to school with, the same Tom Harry had bumped heads with for years and often still does, the same Tom Harry had fallen in love with after being forced to work together on that one group assignment for Defense Against the Dark Arts.

It hadn’t always been this bad, the vomiting. In the first week he had maybe only vomited once or twice, but it seemed like the more Harry wanted to play it off like it was no big deal, the more it was starting to affect him. Harry was losing weight and he couldn’t keep anything down. Every morning was the same, some even worse than others.

Harry coughed, leaning into Tom’s chest and feeling dizzy. The bittersweet stench of his vomit still hung in the air and Harry made a gesture at the window which opened at his demand. Tom pressed his mouth against Harry’s temple, breathing him in.

Harry felt best when he was in Tom’s arms, as dumb and corny as that sounded. He himself was a professional Quidditch player – they were _men,_ masculine men, without a doubt. Harry was not a weakling but he didn’t think loving someone in the purest way possible was a weakness anyway, not truly. He could express himself around Tom, be himself, and hey.

Anyone would love some cuddling after hurling out their guts.

‘I’ll summon a Healer,’ Tom murmured into Harry’s pale skin and Harry weakly shook his head, still too tired to move away. He hadn’t slept much last night – he dreamed too much.

‘No, I’m fine, it’s only in the mornings - ’

‘No, Harry,’ Tom argued sternly as he pet Harry’s hair, who huffed and stared at Tom, ‘you’re not _supposed_ to throw up and I don’t very much appreciate having to wake up every morning to these… _distasteful_ noises you make.’

Harry made a sound in protest but otherwise didn’t complain. Harry knew that things weren’t okay with his body, even if admitting such a thing out loud would hurt his pride. He had just kind of hoped it was the flue or something easily solved with potions but fact was that it simply wasn’t and he hadn’t even been capable of training in the early mornings like he used to.

Tom kissed his temple again.

‘Can we take a shower?’ Harry asked randomly. He felt filthy and he turned his head away again so that Tom wouldn’t have to smell his awful breath. Morning breath was already nasty enough, but added with the contents of whatever Harry had swimming around in his stomach, it was plain sickening. Even Harry could smell it.

Tom hummed, helping the 21 year old to his feet. They both knew that showering together would only resort in them doing something dirty together and even though sex wasn’t the exact thing on Harry’s mind right now, he knew that he’d warm up to Tom soon enough.

Truthfully, Tom had become a better lover since they had gotten together. Tom used to be aggressive and he was often cruel but he had changed, or at least to Harry he had. He now enjoyed helping Harry when he was sick or down; enjoying Harry’s grateful reactions. Tom still didn’t quite understand how he was supposed to act now that they were in a relationship as he still _was_ himself and he _had_ been raised by Merope Gaunt, a woman who herself came from a very abusive home and didn’t truly understand what love was as well, but he was doing better. He was slowly turning into a loving man.

All it took was a little of Harry’s unconditional love.

Harry stumbled before he got steadied by Tom’s large hands. He smiled and watched as the male gazed back at him, the idea of showering with Tom not at all unappealing.

No, just looking at Tom made something stir in his stomach already.

Harry made his way to the sink first and started brushing his teeth, watching as Tom did so as well. They rinsed their mouths and Harry splashed cold water into his face, feeling a little better than before. The strange thing about it all was that it was all just so random – Harry honestly felt fine most of the time. Tom suggestively stroked the small of Harry’s back and their eyes connected briefly before Harry looked away again. That look in Tom’s eyes never failed to arouse him…

Harry licked his lips and looked into Tom’s eyes again with a flush on his face, allowing himself to be undressed. They had just done it this night, and still… Harry sighed in desire when Tom kissed his neck.

He never would get enough of Tom.

 

* * *

 ‘The Healer will be here in 20 minutes, I have to leave for my appointment with the Head of the Department of Mystifications.’

Tom closed his briefcase and pressed a kiss against Harry’s forehead, a habit that had grown over the time they had been together. It made Harry feel domesticated and it was completely against everything that Tom pretended to be to the outside world, but he secretly liked it. It was something between the two of them, like a little secret. No one would have to know that Tom Riddle was fond of cuddling or just physical contact in general.

Not that they’d expect it, anyway.

 ‘When will you be back?’ Harry asked, glancing up at Tom, who caressed his cheek with his knuckles. My God, this man was so handsome and Harry was so disgustingly in love. Tom hummed and kissed Harry on the lips this time, his tongue just a whisper of a touch, and a definite reminder of what they had done less than 20 minutes ago. Harry shivered – it had been good… He had come so hard…

‘Around 12, most likely,’ the man replied as he walked to the fireplace and took a handful of floo powder. He stood tall – he was already getting himself ready for a day of barking orders and looking intimidating to those he deemed lesser than him. Tom was a good Minister, he ruled with care and intelligence, but he did not tolerate failure. ‘Let me know when something happens.’

That was not a request, that was an order.

Harry opened his mouth to complain about that, but in the end, he decided against it. He didn’t really feel like argueing today.

‘Have a nice day at work, then,’ Harry mumbled instead and he watched as Tom nodded and disappeared in green flames. Harry stared at the fireplace for a long time, his mind already elsewhere, perhaps already lost somewhere in the duration of their relationship. There was still some doubt in Harry’s mind, about whether or not Tom had gained the title of Minister of Magic in a fair way. Tom himself was only 21 too, after all.

Harry often influenced the choices Tom made. He was like Tom’s second opinion for as much as the other male dreaded to admit such a thing out loud, but Harry knew that this just happened to be the only way to make sure Tom didn’t turn into a dictator.

Tom did have his Death Eaters just in case people decided to rebel against him, for as much as Harry disliked that. In between Quidditch matches, training and tours, Harry was home a lot, and Tom’s highest ranked Death Eaters were permitted access in case of emergency. Harry had never really met one in person.

That just showed how Tom pretty much had everything in control.

Harry sighed and walked back to their bedroom, feeling a bit nervous.

Tom truly was all the family Harry had. Harry’s parents and godfather had died on a night out – they’d been famous Aurors, and had made the wrong enemies. They’d been ambushed and killed before they had even known what was coming.

Harry sighed as he sat back on their couch. He missed his mom and dad, even if he had never truly known them well. At times like this, when he thought about them, he grew sad and wondered what his life would’ve been like had they been a part of it.

A house elf suddenly appeared in front of him with a loud _pop_ and Harry jumped. The house elf jumped as well, seeming surprised before he bowed and smiled. Harry could feel his tense shoulders relax.

‘Hello, Dobby,’ he greeted with a soft smile on his face. After having seen Lucius Malfoy treat Dobby like absolute dirt Harry had come up with a plan to free the house elf. Tom had just watched rather amusedly as Lucius Malfoy unknowingly presented his house elf a sock and then proceeded to freak out when the house elf exclaimed its gratitude. Ever since that Dobby stuck with Harry. Tom never did call Dobby – he knew he served Harry willingly and that the house elf didn’t really have a master. He was free to come and go whenever he wanted to.

‘Master Harry,’ Dobby said, ‘such pleasure to see you! There is a Healer in the hallway, is all well?’

Harry blinked. Had time passed so fast?

‘Oh, could you bring the healer here please? And I’m sure everything is fine – I just get a bit sick in the mornings. That’s all. Thanks for asking.’

Dobby stared at him with eerie light green eyes and nodded. The last time Harry had requested Dobby’s help all hell had broken loose, even if the house elf meant it well, so he didn’t really ask for anything at all, anymore. Not that he didn’t appreciate it though.

It was just that Dobby had the tendency of making semi-difficult tasks turn out disastrous.

‘Of course, master Harry! Dobby will go right away!’

Harry smiled.

Disaster followed anyway. But this time, it wasn’t Dobby’s fault.

 

* * *

Harry was staring out in front of himself, shock still not quite having left him. His hands were trembling around the cup of tea that he was holding, but it had grown cold a long time ago, without Harry’s consent, and magic to keep it warm.

Harry didn’t know what he was closer to doing – laughing or crying. He had just gotten the weirdest, most life changing news ever and it was like he was numbed. He couldn’t respond to something he had thought to be impossible.

He was… he was pregnant. As in, there was a child growing inside of him. He would soon grow a belly and he would, given he didn’t have _all_ the right equipment; undergo a C-section to give birth to a _child_.

He was scared. Mortified. Because since when did guys get kids? Harry didn’t fully understand but from what he _had_ understood was that his child was located in his abdomen – its placenta was attached to one of Harry’s organs and it was more dangerous than most pregnancies. There was something about Harry being a hermaphrodite, too, but Harry couldn’t really recall the details. He did remember one thing very clearly, however.

His Healer had said he could die from this.

Harry was genuinely scared. How should he have known his body had this potential? He had a cock, he didn’t have breasts, and his body was masculine. He might be a bit shorter than most men and he couldn’t grow a beard even if he wanted to but he had thought that was normal, maybe even magic-related. How should he have known that he just simply didn’t have as much testosterone as most men had?

He didn’t even know how to explain this to Tom. They have had unprotected sex for just a bit less than a year. They never had bothered with it since they were both male and Tom had been Harry’s first and let’s face it, for as much as it grossed Harry out to think of it (he blushed), Tom’s… _come_ just never could have _reached_ those organs. Right…?

And why _now_ when they had been doing so well? He didn’t even know if Tom could raise a child when he was barely comfortable with admitting he loved Harry - he was just learning how to treat Harry like a, well, lover and not some pet.

The Healer had been equally surprised and he just kept taking tests, kept saying it was impossible, but eventually he had to conclude that it indeed had been right. And Harry just didn’t know what to do, or what to think of this entire situation.

He could hear Tom’s footsteps from the hallway but he sat perfectly still save from his trembling, still staring at his cup. He was going to be a dad. _Tom_ was going to be a dad.

It had been a desire that he had given up a long time ago truthfully, since he had gotten together with Tom. Guys couldn’t, no, weren’t _supposed_ to, have children after all. The thought of giving this child up had been briefly in his mind but he had forced it down immediately. He wanted to keep it and he truly was happy. He was just too scared to realize it.

The door to the living room opened and closed and he could hear Tom coming closer, hear the rustle of clothes as he took his long coat off, could feel his magic filling the room. Tom usually only used their fireplace when he had a meeting he should attend – he wasn’t too fond of the ashes that got on his clothes.

And all this time Harry sat perfectly still.

‘How was work?’ he forced himself to say, still not looking at Tom who took his tie off and undid his cufflinks. The male glanced at Harry briefly, before he ran a hand through his hair and undid the top buttons of his shirt. It was a process he repeated every time he got home, but Harry was almost painfully aware of it right now.

‘Fine,’ he murmured, obviously not interested in discussing his day. His intelligent eyes were watching Harry carefully as Harry nodded absentmindedly. Harry already knew the question Tom was going to ask before the male even opened his mouth.

‘What did the Healer say?’ Tom said and Harry felt the ghost of a humorless smile on his lips, but it left him very quickly again.

‘I’m healthy,’ Harry replied tentatively. In the past, when he’d been depressed, that had always been the answer he’d give whenever someone would ask him how he was doing.

_Well, I’m healthy. I’m breathing, still. What more could I ask for?_

Tom hated it when Harry used to answer like that, saying he was too passive to make anything out of his life, if he kept it up like this. Harry had sometimes agreed with him, had felt like shit the upcoming hours, but then he’d pick himself up and fight harder for a future he didn’t even know for sure if he wanted.

Harry had always fought his way up, had never asked for Tom’s assistance. But this? This was something entirely different, this was something Harry _shouldn’t_ be doing by himself. He secretly knew that he would keep this child, even if Tom didn’t want to raise it. Abortion simply was no option to him.  

‘That’s good.’

Harry didn’t reply and Tom’s eyebrow rose. He sunk down on the couch, next to Harry, and brushed Harry’s dark hair from his green eyes. A simple caress that would usually end up becoming so much more, but not today. This time Tom wouldn’t be able to get Harry to warm up to him.

‘Why aren’t you looking at me?’

There came no reply from the 21 year old. Harry’s mind was already running wild with doom scenario’s, picturing himself with a baby in his arms on the streets, because Tom had left him… How was he even supposed to tell his team? Tell Ron or Hermione? There was no way he’d be able to play anymore, or at least not these upcoming 9 months… He’d have to arrange so much…

What should he tell the Weasleys?

 _‘Hey guys. So, like, you know how I’m a guy right? Yeah, funny thing about that – I got pregnant. I’m having the Minister’s child_. _Now I know you never approved of this relationship and I guess you were right since he kicked me out, but I kind of need a place to say…’_

‘Harry,’ Tom said and he grabbed his chin, making Harry gasp and drop the cup he was holding. It shattered on the marble floor and when Harry finally looked Tom in the eye Tom’s grip grew slack. Merlin, but what _if_ Tom was going to leave him? He had grown so attached to this man and the thought just didn’t weigh well on his mind… they had been doing better, hadn’t they? Harry swallowed thickly and placed his hand on Tom’s wrist, squeezing him while Tom kept staring at him without blinking even once.

‘I’m pregnant,’ Harry finally admitted, sounding as though he didn’t even believe it himself. Which he didn’t, but he wanted Tom to believe him. _Needed_ him to.

‘Don’t be ridiculous,’ Tom huffed after a moment of silence and Harry could feel dread filling him completely up, yet hollowing him out at the same time. Tom released Harry’s face and stood up, probably to pour himself a glass of Firewhiskey. ‘In case you didn’t know, you’re -’

‘I know what I am,’ Harry started in a careful tone as he suddenly rose to his feet, standing right behind Tom. He gripped his bicep and Tom turned around, his groomed eyebrows raising in silent question. It was quite obvious to Harry that Tom thought he was either messing around with him or in the process of losing his mind, and he hoped to whatever God – no, not God, wizard? – that was up there that Tom would see the sincerity in Harry’s eyes. They both didn’t notice the house elf that quietly cleaned up the tea and shatters off the floor in the small, unspoken argument they’re having.

Eventually Tom’s expression relaxed into something softer.

‘I don’t believe you, you must have misunderstood,’ Tom finally sighed in a voice that sounded almost patronizing. Like he felt sorry that Harry actually believed it. But it made Harry all the more determined to make him believe it.

‘I can show you the memory,’ Harry said, slowly feeling more confident with how Tom hadn’t been yelling at him and he took Tom’s hand and placed it on his stomach. Tom’s frown returned.

‘What are you doing?’

‘Your– _our_ child is growing inside of me.’ He pressed Tom’s hand more firmly against his belly and Tom continued frowning at him, looking at him as though he had just grown a second head. But Harry could sense it. He could feel the complete lack of hospitality and it just gave him more and more confidence that maybe, once Tom would believe him, things would be okay.

‘You’ve gone mad,’ Tom said at last as his fingers flexed and bunched up Harry’s shirt between them, ‘your illness has damaged your brains and-’

‘I barely believe it myself,’ Harry murmured, ‘I mean, I… and you…’

Tom suddenly pulled his hand away as if burned. ‘You honestly believe what you’re saying? Do you even _understand_ -’

‘I am not stupid Tom! Nor crazy!’ His eyes widened temporarily while Harry kept staring at him. ‘It all makes sense,’ Harry said, somehow gathering himself, ‘the morning sickness, me being exhausted all the time, the _mood swings_ -’

‘This is not possible,’ Tom repeated, though he seemed unsure. And although Tom’s reluctance was frustrating, Harry could see that hesitant glee in his eyes. The thought of having a child enthralled Tom. He _wanted_ it to be true and the only reason why Tom was this dead-set on denying it was true was because he didn’t want to be disappointed.

But he wouldn’t be. There was a perfect being created out of Harry and Tom growing inside of the shorter of the two.

 ‘I’m scared,’ Harry confessed to him patiently, thinking that maybe if he opened up Tom would relax somewhat and Tom’s eyes snapped back to him. ‘It scares me, I… _we’re_ going to be _fathers_. Us. Can you even imagine something like that?’ Harry started running his hands through his hair, pacing back and forth.

‘What did the Healer say?’ Tom asked as he watched him, probably understanding the significance of what Harry had told him right away. Harry never opened up because he had always believed he should suffer in silence to keep from  burdening people, and to have him admit having negative feelings…

 ‘I- I’m not sure,’ Harry stammered, ‘I mean, I was there, and he explained it all and I’m sure he did a great job at it, but I was just so…’

‘Shocked,’ Tom mumbled to himself.

The 21 year old nodded and they stared at each other for a couple of tense seconds. Eventually Tom’s eyes lowered to Harry’s stomach again, and his hand slid under Harry’s shirt this time. Harry shuddered at his cold touch, but he stood tall and proud, unwilling to back down. Maybe it was his stubborn Gryffindor nature, or maybe it was just that feeling of familiarity at that touch. Either way, he kept staring at Tom, not at all bothered by how Tom looked frustrated even if he had lashed out at Harry in the past when he had moods similar to the one Harry seemed to have caused right now.

His nails dug into the tender skin of Harry’s stomach and for a moment Harry thought Tom was going to harm him, but he didn’t. He retracted again and smoothed his hand over the marks as if apologizing.

‘The Healer said I could die,’ Harry murmured carefully and he gripped Tom’s wrist. Tom’s eyes were instantly back on his own, staring straight into his soul. Harry had nothing to hide. He knew Tom could sense a lie – could sense it from Harry’s heartbeat and how Harry’s eyes would shift around and Legillimency, but right now that wasn’t a disadvantage. ‘It’s more dangerous than most pregnancies. But I want to keep it, Tom.’

Tom didn’t reply to that, but something in his expression did harden. Harry was getting to him on a whole new level.

‘You honestly believe this, don’t you?’ he asked and Harry slowly nodded.

‘I think that it’d be wise if you would talk to our Healer,’ Harry suggested softly, ‘he knows all the facts. And then, once it sunk in…’

‘We will talk,’ Tom agreed and Harry nodded again. It kind of stung that Tom didn’t believe him as easily as Harry would’ve liked him to, but he completely understood it. In a way, it would’ve weirded him out if Tom would’ve instantly accepted this for the way it was. That just wasn’t what Tom did and it wasn’t who Tom was. ‘We will talk regardless of the outcome of my conversation with him.’

And there was a silent threat in that statement, as well, one that Harry didn’t miss. All he did was run a hand through his messy hair and nod.

‘Are you hungry?’ Harry finally asked, not knowing what else to say. Tom’s eyes lingered on his face before he leaned forward and kissed Harry. It was a claim. Tom was claiming Harry’s lips and at the same time he was telling Harry conversation was far from over.

His tongue swept over Harry’s lips and then conquered the inside of Harry’s mouth – Harry could only release a muffled moan and sink into his arms.

‘Yes,’ Tom whispered when they parted, but he didn’t move like he was planning on moving to the dining room. Instead, he lifted Harry up and forced Harry to wrap his legs around his waist to keep from falling. He practically devoured Harry’s mouth again.

Their clothes fell to the ground and Harry moaned when Tom slid inside of him.

In a weird way it amused Harry how Tom could think he was insane yet fuck him this hungrily at the same time.


	2. Something Beautiful

**To Build a Home**

Chapter 2

**Something Beautiful**

_‘It's the love between you and I  
Something beautiful’_

Harry turned out to be right.

Of course, Harry had already known the outcome – had secretly thought that this could’ve all been a dream, but you know, that was because even after a few days it still seemed so unreal – but to hear confirmation that he was, in fact, bearing the Minister’s child, had strangely calmed him.

Because even if his body was pulling weird shit on him, at least his mind hadn’t left him.

It took Tom a lot of interrogating before he was finally willing to believe it, and he’d been there when the Healer had checked over Harry’s body again. In a strange way, with the way Tom had incredulously looked at the test results, Harry had almost felt victorious. He’d been right and Tom had been wrong. That was something that didn’t happen too often.

Harry had been pregnant for seven weeks, by then. He was currently in his eighth week and his discomfort only seemed to grow with each passing day.

His nipples fucking hurt. It was like he could constantly feel them rubbing against the fabric of his clothes no matter what he wore, and he constantly had to pee. But it wasn’t just physical discomfort that bothered him.

Tom had hired a guard to make sure Harry was safe. All hopes of Harry going back to playing Quidditch were thrown out of the window, as whenever Harry would do so much as look at his broomstick, the guard would clear his throat and shake his head in disapproval.  The guard was annoying, he had been given specific orders to follow Harry everywhere and make sure Harry wouldn’t do anything that would put himself or the baby in danger.

It was getting on Harry’s nerves.

Fine, Harry knew that this pregnancy was dangerous for his own wellbeing. But goddamnit, he had feelings and needs too. What was he supposed to do? Sit inside for these 9 months while his lover was capable of doing anything he wanted? Like some kind of caged animal?

Eventually the guard ended up getting petrified, while a pleased Harry could finally use the bathroom to his heart’s content without being disturbed.

He had gotten medicines in order to stop his constant vomiting and now that he managed to keep his food inside he was slowly gaining weight. Harry hadn’t gained too much, and the most weight he _had_ gained was on his belly – but it didn’t really show that much. He just had the tiniest bump.

Tom seemed almost obsessed with the mere thought that he was going to have a heir and had heightened all security and had told Harry not to tell anyone about his pregnancy, just to make sure. But, Harry wondered, how was he supposed to hide his belly when he was a few weeks further? And even more so, how were they supposed to raise a child in secret? Harry wasn’t planning on hiding the child away from the world like it was some kind of disgrace. High political position or not, press be damned, Tom would have to act up as a father too. Surely Tom didn’t expect Harry to never leave the house again, right?

Harry sighed as he finished peeing and flushed the toilet. The Healer, which Tom had now forced to come over at least once a week, had told Harry that now that the child was growing it was pressing down on Harry’s other organs. It shouldn’t cause any lasting damage but it did press onto Harry’s bladder, causing him to need to use the bathroom more often.

‘You better be worth it,’ Harry mumbled, as he touched his belly and stepped over the Stupefied guard to head to the backdoor. He had somehow come to terms with the idea of becoming a father, comforted by Tom’s acceptance. The other male seemed almost eager to welcome this new life into their own now that he knew the truth.

Harry sat down in one of the lush chairs in their white gazebo, staring out in front of himself. The garden was beautiful – the green lawn seemed to stretch on for miles, and there were rose bushes growing near their backdoor. There was the occasional rabbit, too, hopping in the distance and pausing occasionally when it thought to hear something.

Pregnancies of witches rarely went wrong, so it would be safe to assume that they would need to decorate a room for their child soon. Harry however knew he was in more danger than the average witch, given he by far did not have the right equipment, but he was confident that potions and magic would keep him alive when things would go bad. Magical medical care had blossomed, under Tom’s watchful eyes.

 He wondered what gender it would be; he would have to wait until the twentieth week. Around that time, the Healer would be able to tell them with certainty.

Harry’s head perked up at a noise behind him, the sound of something breaking catching his attention. He stood up and hurried inside again, walking stairs and through corridors until he could see Tom fisting the shirt of the guard he had petrified not too long ago, holding a wand against his throat.

‘What are you doing?!’ Harry exclaimed, and watched as the Minister suddenly dropped the man and turned his eyes to Harry. He sneered.

‘Where the hell were you?’ he growled as he walked to Harry, who cautiously took a step backwards and swallowed. This was how Tom used to treat him all the time, before Harry had taught him that this wasn’t the best way. In the past, he would’ve snarled back at him and said something witty, but now his arms curled protectively over his stomach. He wasn’t alone anymore, and it wouldn’t be just Harry that would be taking hits.

‘I- I was outside,’ he stammered, ‘the guard kept following me, even when I had to use the bathroom, and I-’

‘Do you _want_ to lose this child?’

Harry gazed up at Tom, frowning back. ‘No, of course not-’

‘Then let him take care of you! I had to come back from the Ministry just because _you_ felt like sitting in the garden?!’

‘Nobody asked you to come back!’ Harry yelled, ‘I’m not fragile Tom! I may be pregnant, but I can take perfect care of myself! And if you’re hiring men to fucking _stare_ at me when I try to sleep or when I have to _pee_ , then yes, I will force them away! There’s a thing called privacy and dammit, I may be carrying our child, but I still need it!’

He had expected Tom to grow angry at him but he certainly hadn’t expected Tom to suddenly fist his shirt, pull him forward and slam his lips down onto Harry, kissing him passionately and pushing him into the wall. It seemed that now Tom knew Harry was pregnant, he was more attracted to him than ever, and he couldn’t get enough of Harry.

Harry made a noise but eventually just melted into him, arms wrapping around his neck. As Tom lifted Harry up and Harry wrapped his legs around his waist they completely dismissed the wounded guard, who had overheard every detail of their conversation.

* * *

‘I’m getting fat,’ Harry observed one day as he lifted his shirt. He was now 12 weeks pregnant and Tom was sitting behind him on the bed, watching Harry touch his stomach as he stared into the full body length mirror.

It was a Sunday morning and the couple had slowly come to agreements concerning Harry’s – and the baby’s – safety. One, being, Harry wouldn’t have a guard all the time, but if he was planning on leaving the house (even if it was just to sit in the garden), he would have someone accompanying him. They had a Healer move into the spare bedroom and a few of Tom’s most loyal Death Eaters had moved into the other side of the house as well just in case of attack. Harry didn’t need to see them and rarely came across them; the manor was large enough for them to house an entire army without it becoming crowded.

Just a week ago Harry decided to tell Ron and Hermione, in spite of their initial decision to keep it a secret. Harry knew that with Ron and Hermione, a secret would always be safe. He had grown up with them after all.

Of course, they hadn’t been willing to believe Harry – not until Hermione had touched his stomach and felt the baby’s own magical core. Harry’d been happy when they were willing to accept it, and they even felt joy for him. It was more than he had wanted, or even expected at that. Not only did he get accepted, but he was getting support too. It was the ideal thing given the current situation.

Hermione had instantly started looking up things about magical pregnancies, and Ron had just shook his head at him. He’d seemed almost scared when Hermione had stated that she’d love to have children too.

Tom had managed to back off a bit and Harry had learned to grow more careful even though it wasn’t necessary. Who’d want to hurt them? Harry had no real enemies…

‘Do your nipples still hurt?’ Tom asked as he got out of bed and stood behind Harry, caressing his shoulders. Almost as if trying to seek the right answer to that Harry lifted his shirt further, exposing his slightly pinker nipples and frowning.

‘No, they’re just… sensitive, I guess- _oh_.’ He gasped when Tom’s fingers caressed them, making them harden underneath his fingers. ‘Tom…’

‘Hmm,’ Tom hummed pleasantly, pressing a kiss against Harry’s neck.

‘How can you think about _that_ when I look like _this_?’ Harry had never seen or understood the appeal of pregnant women. They looked uncomfortable and their stomachs were something that didn’t fit the rest of their bodies. But somehow, pregnant women always seemed to have that _glow…_

‘The reason I think about that is exactly because you look like this,’ Tom answered softly, ‘you have no idea how beautiful you look carrying our child, allowing it to grow inside of you…’ Almost as though proving his point he placed his hands on Harry’s belly, caressing him while he pulled Harry into his chest, ‘look at how perfect we look, like this.’

Harry glanced up from Tom’s hands to their reflection, noticing the gentle look on Tom’s face as he pressed another kiss on Harry’s neck before looking at their bodies. Tom was ridiculously tall and Harry hated how small he felt around him. And Harry thought he looked absolutely weird with his belly like this but somehow with Tom’s hands on top of it and the knowledge of what was inside of him… It made sense, strangely. It made sense and it made him feel good, like he finally was something he was supposed to be.

‘See?’ Tom murmured as though he could see Harry connecting the dots in his head, ‘you’re not fat at all.’

‘But I-’

‘Hush,’ Tom said as he turned Harry’s head and pressed a kiss on his lips. ‘Let’s feed our baby.’

* * *

14 weeks, now.

Harry’s clothes didn’t fit anymore and he constantly had to get his clothes tailored, much to the Minister’s amusement. To Harry it was just an embarrassment, but it wasn’t like he could go on a diet when he was supposed to eat for two.

Speaking of eating for two, Harry was currently rummaging through the refrigerator, searching for something. The only problem was that he couldn’t find out _what_ he wanted. He pushed the can of ice cream aside and looked at the jar of pickles in mild interest. He took it and opened it, took one out and made a face when he took a bite.

No. Definitely not that.

Something salty. And then something sweet, because he always needed something sweet after something salty, lately. But what if he’d combine them? Harry sucked on his lower lip before grabbing a slice of leftover pumpkin pie, considering it thoughtfully.

‘Minzy?’ he asked, and watched as a small house elf popped in, who instantly bowed.

‘Could you make me some chicken soup,’ he eyed the little plate he held in his hands and then added ‘and maybe some bread?’ The house elf nodded eagerly and Harry smiled before sitting down at the kitchen table. She reappeared less than five minutes later and Harry didn’t notice the shocked look on her face as he suddenly had the brilliant idea to crumble up the pumpkin pie with his bare hands into his soup, dip bread in the odd mixture and take a bite. He moaned at the taste.

That was it.

 _Brilliant_.

‘Thank you, Minzy,’ he said, dismissing the shocked house elf who disappeared again. Tom walked into the kitchen not much later, sitting down across Harry and taking a piece of bread without asking him for any, dipping it into Harry’s soup.

He choked.

‘What on _earth_ are you eating?’ he sputtered uncharacteristically and Harry protectively snatched the bowl and frowned at Tom. He hadn’t been so fond of sharing, these past days.

‘Chicken soup,’ he stated simply, like it should say it all. How was he supposed to explain his cravings to another person when he couldn’t even explain it himself?

‘That’s no chicken soup! Is someone attempting to poison you?! Let me see that-’

‘I added pumpkin pie crumbs.’

‘You.. you what?’  Tom’s surprise would have been amusing, if Harry hadn’t been so worried he would throw his food away. He didn’t know why he was so afraid of that but he was unwilling to give it up now that he finally knew what he had been craving for. He might actually hex Tom if he’d try anything.

‘I was hungry,’ Harry added, ‘I wanted this. It’s not like you have to eat this anyway.’

Tom just kept staring at Harry.

‘You have gone mad,’ the man said plainly, and Harry shrugged as he raised his spoon and took a sip, ‘you honestly have lost your mind.’

‘You just wish you were as brilliant as I am,’ Harry replied childishly and he stuck out his tongue before taking another piece of bread, dipping it in the odd mixture and chewing on it. Tom seemed positively scandalized.

* * *

Week 17.

He had just come back from a rather disturbing check up. The Healer had informed Harry that the hCG-hormone raging through his veins had made place for progesterone.

In other words, Harry would be having more sexual cravings.

He was flustered as he walked through the hallways. It wasn’t like he hadn’t noticed this yet, though. Recently, he couldn’t help but stare at Tom’s mouth whether he was talking, eating or not doing anything in particular with it and he was constantly frustrated when Tom wasn’t around. At first he had just thought it had been one of the mood swings the Healer had warned him about, but, well, apparently not.

His eyebrow twitched.

He was hard.

He couldn’t help it, dammit, and it wasn’t like him to openly look for sex or something like that. Tom had been Harry’s only partner and right now, Harry felt like a bitch in heat and he just wanted to get fucked, hard.

So even if he wanted to, initially, he couldn’t bring up the nerve to actually go to Tom – the male was currently sitting in his office, just a two minute walk away from their bedroom – and, although it would surely please the perverted man, Harry thought with a scowl, demand sex. He just couldn’t. He refused.

He still had _some_ dignity left.

‘You’re really testing me,’ he grumbled to his belly, ‘I bet you’re laughing your tiny ass off right now. Have you even grown an ass, in the first place?’

He huffed when no reply came though he hadn’t been expecting any and kept walking. It was awkward walking around on swollen feet, a hard manhood between his legs and a body that felt much heavier than usual. Tom had forced all the servants to make an unbreakable vow, so that they wouldn’t tell anyone about Harry’s state. His Death Eaters would never even dream of betraying their master and the Healer wasn’t allowed to speak of his patients in the first place but that did nothing to comfort Harry.

Somehow he felt like something was wrong.

‘It’s probably nothing,’ he said to himself as his arousal somewhat weakened, ‘I’m just a paranoid, swollen, hormone-raging, locked up, _male_ pregnant wizard. Nothing weird about that. Why would anything be wrong?’

He grimaced at his own words. He sounded almost upset with it all, but he really wasn’t. He was happy he was getting a kid, his fear had dissolved somewhat. Tom supported him, they were getting a child of their own! Besides the physical discomfort, there really was no reason for Harry to be unhappy, so he wasn’t.

He stared at the door his feet had lead him to.

He had walked to Tom’s office without really realizing. He raised his fist to knock, but hesitated.

He really shouldn’t, he’d only make a fool out of himself. Lowering his fist and making to walk away, the door opened on its own accord and Tom’s eyebrow rose at the sight of his pregnant lover. Harry blinked in surprise.

‘Hey,’ Harry said stupidly. He closed the door behind him and sucked on his bottom lip, ignoring how his body seemed to yearn to touch, to be touched. He’d been bent over that desk before, been fucked deeply, and had come all over Tom’s important papers…

‘Hello,’ Tom drawled. He glanced at Harry before he resumed to his writing again.

‘I just went to the Healer for my check up,’ Harry stated because he had no idea how to start the conversation otherwise, ‘everything’s okay.’

‘That’s good,’ Tom said as he continued writing. He didn’t even look up from his work and Harry bit his lip again. Should he leave? But he really didn’t want to… He rubbed his upper arms and glanced at Tom again, whose quill made scratchy noises as it slid over the parchment. He really, _really_ wanted to touch him…

‘What are you doing?’ Harry asked.

‘Just taking notes,’ Tom replied, flipping through the thick book that laid before him, ‘I’m trying to figure out if the list of Unforgiveable curses doesn’t need a sub list with weaker variants of the Cruciatus and Imperius curse.’

‘Oh.’ Although Tom’s Death Eaters had free range of using them, the rest of the Wizarding Community didn’t. Dark magic was allowed to be practiced, as long as it didn’t physically or mentally scarred, hurt, or killed anyone. ‘Are you almost done?’

Tom stopped writing for a moment but didn’t look at Harry. Harry wished he did, though. He shifted on his feet, toes curling and uncurling at the feeling between his legs.

‘I should be done in a few minutes. Why are you here?’ Harry opened and closed his mouth, feeling caught.

‘I-I’ll leave, if you want me to,’ he stammered, still standing in front of the door. Tom laid down his quill and frowned at him, standing up from his desk.

‘What is it?’ he asked as he stood in front of Harry, ‘is there something you need? Or have you done something?’ his voice sounded suspicious, but all Harry could do was openly stare at his mouth again. He leaned forward, standing on the tips of his toes, but just as their lips brushed together, Tom grabbed the collar of his shirt and pinned him with a dangerous glare.

‘Harry,’ he said, ‘what have you done?’ Harry frowned at having been denied physical contact again. It was starting to frustrate him, now. He wanted to come already and he should’ve just masturbated instead of going to Tom. Tom wouldn’t help him with these things as long as he had work to finish.

‘Nothing,’ Harry said honestly, ‘I just wanted to see you. Is that so hard to believe?’

Tom’s frown deepened.

‘Has our Healer given you new medicines?’

‘What? No- Tom, why are you acting like this?’ Tom released Harry in favor of glancing his body over, eyes temporarily resting on his swollen stomach, before he looked Harry in the eye again.

‘Why else would you openly seek my attention?’

‘Maybe because I actually _wanted_ to see you?’ Harry huffed, arousal replaced by frustration. ‘You know what, never mind, I’ll-’

‘You _wanted to see me_?’ Tom repeated, ‘have you hurt your head?’ He briefly touched Harry’s forehead as if checking for a fever. Harry licked his lips and gazed up at his face. He realized just now he honestly didn’t appreciate Tom’s good looks as much as he should – he was always more preoccupied with thinking how much of an asshole he was, or how perverted he often was. And now that Harry actually wanted him to be a pervert, he just didn’t do it.

Typical.

To be honest, Tom’s confusion was quite understandable. Although they were lovers, Harry often found it difficult to express his feelings around Tom, and Tom was just getting accustomed to having these kinds of feelings at all. Whenever he wasn’t busy seducing Harry, or hesitantly touching him gently, he was found often in the library, studying books on the connection between love and magic.

It just wasn’t like Harry to come to Tom just to see him and admit it like that.

 _I sometimes hate you, Tom Riddle,_ he thought to himself as he could feel his face relax.

‘Kiss me?’ Harry asked and the look on Tom’s face would have been comical, if he hadn’t been this sexually frustrated. The man grabbed Harry’s wrist and made for the door.

‘Tom, what are you-?’

‘Taking you to Healer Diggory. There is something wrong with-’

‘Fuck me already!’ Harry snapped and his eyes instantly grew wide, his hands coming up to cover his mouth as his face turned red. Tom stared at him in shock, as though Harry had just struck him in the face.

Oh God, had he actually said that right now? Harry smiled nervously, the corners of his mouth twitching, his heart suddenly racing. Nevertheless, Harry wasn’t completely himself right now and all he could do was continue what he had started and hope for the best.

 ‘I want you to fuck me,’ Harry slowly repeated, licking his dry lips, ‘I want you to bend me over that desk and fuck my ass and come inside of me.’

They maintained eye contact for a bit longer, just enough for Harry to start feeling ridiculous. That was about as vocal as Harry could get, but strangely this time, he didn’t feel any shame. It was Tom’s fault for getting Harry knocked up anyway, he should take care of Harry’s needs more now that Harry was giving him a child. Right?

Just as Harry was starting to think about masturbating, Tom slowly smirked and Harry knew he had him right where he had wanted him. Tom stared at him for a bit longer before he tugged Harry closer and as soon as their lips met, Tom had forgotten all about Unforgivable Curses.

Tom gripped the back of Harry’s head with one hand and started unbuttoning Harry’s shirt with the other, fiddling with the buttons before clean ripping it open and dropping the mangled fabric on the floor. Had Harry been any less hard, he would’ve acted like he cared, but Harry’s own hands were too busy pawing at Tom’s clothes. There was a persistence in Tom’s touches that Harry hadn’t anticipated, but he welcomed it either way.

‘You little slut,’ Tom growled and Harry moaned. _Yes._ This was exactly what he needed – as soon as Tom’s shirt was gone he started fiddling with the waistband of Tom’s trousers but Tom slapped his hands off.

‘Bend over that desk right now,’ he demanded and Harry groaned. Tom was in one of _those_ moods again. Had Harry triggered that just now, or had Tom been wanting this all along and had just been waiting for an excuse to be rough?

‘Tom,’ Harry started to whine, but Tom wouldn’t have any of it. He locked the door with a wave of his hand and stared at Harry, until Harry finally gave in. Harry had the sense to pull down his pants first, and he spread his legs so that his hole would be exposed. ‘Tom, please, fuck me, put it in –’

The slap on his ass came hard and unexpected and Harry’s breath hitched in his throat as Tom sucked on his own fingers before roughly shoving them inside of him, pumping hard and steady, a clear sign that this wasn’t going to be soft and gentle like the lovemaking they’d been doing the past weeks.

Fine, that was just fucking great.

It was so good to make love, to love and be loved in the most intimate ways possible, but sometimes rough pounding was something a person could just need and crave.

‘I should make you suck me off first, beg for it like the little whore you are,’ Tom murmured, his teeth digging into Harry’s neck right after. He didn’t even leave Harry wondering before he shoved inside and he fucked Harry deep and hard, and nothing was loving about it. There was no mercy in his thrusts and Harry could just rest his cheek on the cool wood of the desk, starry eyed and moaning, dumb with the pleasure and the need that was overcoming him. He was vaguely aware that he was releasing a senseless stream of ‘ _fuck me fuck me, please, harder, oh god oh god, feels so good.’_

He was being fucked ruthlessly, the fast pace of Tom’s hips brutal and his fat cock completely stretching out Harry’s hole. In Harry’s current state of mind, he felt like that was all he was good for – to get fucked, used like a slut.

‘You can’t even go a damn day without my cock in you, you filthy cockslut,’ Tom growled.

Harry choked and whined, something in his balls tightening.

He should’ve known that if he’d only ask, Tom would always provide.


	3. Anything Could Happen

**A/N:** Laptop's finally somewhat repaired, sorry for the delay...

**To Build a Home**

Chapter 3

**Anything Could Happen**

_´Baby, I´ll give you everything you need. But I don´t think I need you.´_

‘What’s it like?’

Harry paused, shifting in his seat. He was sitting in the Leaky Cauldron in a rather uncomfortable wooden chair, with a very curious Hermione Granger seated across him. His guard was sitting just a table away from them and they had to keep their voices low, so that he wouldn’t be able to overhear them.

Harry didn't think he could grow accustomed to the male's presence any time soon.

‘Uncomfortable,’ Harry carefully started, Hermione’s big brown eyes boring into his the way they always did. She loved learning, Harry knew this, and she was very much planning on bringing up the subject of pregnancy to Ron. With the way she was constantly questioning Harry about the littlest things, Harry was starting to think that she didn’t truly worry about Harry, but just wanted to prepare herself on every little discomfort being pregnant brought with itself. ‘Like I said before, I have the craziest food cravings. And other, um, cravings.’

Harry coughed awkwardly and broke eye contact momentarily. He couldn’t explain it properly. Being pregnant was a roller-coaster of emotions… ‘But. Strangely enough, even if I feel and look like a bloated elephant and I haven’t been able to fly anymore, at least until the little one is born, I am happy.’

And Harry truly was. He missed soaring through the sky, free like a bird, feeling the wind go through his hair. But it was worth it. The joy of finally becoming a father against all odds was something that still made Harry feel warm and happy inside.

‘Hmm. Hormones can do a lot to a person,’ Hermione agreed. She took a sip from her Butterbeer and sighed. ‘You know, Harry, I think you’ll be a great father.’

He smiled.

‘You really think so?’ This was the first time anyone had told him that and it felt good, to have someone say that to him. Even Tom hadn’t said it, not quite yet.

Hermione set down her Butterbeer and hummed, patting her face with a napkin in fear of having some on her lips. ‘Now, Thomas on the other hand…’

‘Hermione, please.’ They reached eye contact and for a moment it was like Hermione was trying to mentally tell Harry something, but Harry wouldn’t have it. Tom was a good man, a great lover, and Harry truly believed he’d be an amazing father.

He knew how Hermione felt about Tom. It was completely juvenile, how she’d always had this underlying competition with the Slytherin. It had started ever since their first year at Hogwarts, when Tom had started earning more House points for Slytherin that Hermione had for Gryffindor.

Harry’s friends didn’t really approve of Tom. They accepted him for what and who he was, but that didn’t mean they liked him, and it didn’t help that Tom would never be able to keep his witty mouth shut whenever Ron and Hermione would come to visit Harry…

‘I’m just saying, Harry,’ Hermione finally sighed. Harry huffed.

‘Save it. It’s not like I constantly tell you that your fiancée is a blithering fool.’ This earned Harry a wry grin, and before they knew it, they started laughing.

‘You don’t have to tell me,’ Hermione said, wiping the tears from her eyes. The guard shot them a curious look and Harry just smirked. ‘We both already know it’s true.’

They talked a bit more after this, and neither of them noticed the dark figure in the corner, watching them.

* * *

It was a day later when Harry dropped the glass of water he had been holding in shock and pain.

He’d been on his way to the library in the hopes of finding a book to read their child bedtime stories from, when he had suddenly felt it. It had been completely random, and it had left as soon as it had come, but…

_Had his baby just kicked him?_

He lifted his shirt and touched his stomach, but nothing came. It was perfectly still inside of him.

Harry blinked a couple of times, before a strange, happy feeling came over him. Although he had been perfectly aware that there had been growing something inside of him, it hadn’t felt so _real_ until now. It was like this was the first sign of life inside of him, and only now did Harry have the feeling that their child was truly _alive_.

He bent down and carefully picked up the shards, not at bothered in the least by his own clumsiness as he dismissed the water with a wave of his wand and went on a search for the nearest trash bin.

If Harry had thought that kick was as painful as it could get, he had another thing coming.

* * *

 It was two weeks later when he doubled over in pain with a loud whine on a Sunday afternoon. He’d been taking a walk in their garden with Tom by his side, on one of Tom’s very few days off when it had started.

If Harry were to describe it, it was like being stabbed in the gut multiple times, and like all the feeling in his body was concentrated on that very spot. He could feel his knees buckle and if Tom hadn’t acted so fast he would have fallen flat on his face.

The first thought that had entered Harry’s mind was that something was wrong with his baby. Panicked, Harry started whimpering and his arms wrapped around his stomach as Tom knelt down next to him on the grass. His blue eyes were filled with concern and confusion – Harry didn’t blame him. Just seconds ago, Harry had been fine.

‘What is it?’ Tom demanded and Harry shook his head, incapable of saying anything. The pain seemed to go all the way down to his pelvis and he choked on his own spit.

Tom’s grip tightened on Harry’s hand. Huh… When had he grabbed it?

‘Harry,’ he started, voice threatening, ‘what’s-’

‘I-I don’t know, I don’t know okay!’ Harry finally forced himself to ground out, ‘It just hurts, I can’t-’

Harry felt that sickening pull from his belly button down to his head and toes when Tom apparated them to the Healer’s chambers, who stared at them in shock.

‘Help him!’ Tom snarled. The Healer stared at him for a bit longer, before going to work.

After giving Harry a quick check up and checked all his vitals, healer Diggory shook his head.

‘This is no good…’

Tom and Harry exchanged a worried look before Harry released another pained noise and grabbed Tom’s hand, squeezing down in it so hard he thought he may have felt Tom’s bones grind together. He didn’t care much – he was sure he was going to pass out if he didn’t have something to hold on to and it wasn’t until Tom was started wiping Harry’s brow that he realized he was _sweating_.

‘Whereas Harry managed to get pregnant, his body obviously isn’t made to carry a child. The fetus is here,’ Diggory pressed a hand at Harry’s lower abdomen and Harry whined as another wave of _pain_ crashed over him and he took quick, shaky breaths, feeling like he was being ripped apart from the inside out, ‘but the placenta is attached to another organ, in Harry’s case his bowels.’

‘Tom, please,’ Harry whined uselessly, his eyebrows squeezing shut and his nails digging into Tom’s skin. He felt like he was going to be sick and he couldn’t think straight – he was reaching out to a person who normally could make everything okay, make everything better. But even this was out of Tom’s power and Tom stared at the Healer with a dark expression in his eyes, his hands never leaving Harry’s body.

Their Healer sighed.

‘Considering the fetus, your child, is pressed along the abdominal wall and the placenta would grow along with your child… It pushes organs to the side, if you may, and if your child is being very energetic inside of Harry he’s possibly kicking directly against some of-’

The Healer paused to take a long look at Harry, who groaned.

‘- Harry’s organs. This can cause internal bleeding – Harry’s pregnancy is dangerous and potentially fatal, like I stated before. Harry is just too _crowded_ inside, if you may. Not only this but the abdomen are not designed to separate from the placenta during delivery because it has been functioning as a normal, albeit useless, organ for so long and it’s been attached to Harry from the inside out.’

Tom squeezed Harry’s hand and Harry struggled to _breathe._ He barely heard a thing their Healer was saying.

‘So he will be having this kind of pain more often?’

‘I’m surprised he didn’t have it sooner,’ their Healer replied incredulously. The man regarded Harry for a moment, his swollen belly, and then sighed. ‘We could try manipulating the brain into thinking that the pain is just a mild discomfort when it gets too much, because it can get even _worse_ than what he’s having now, but…’

‘...Numbing the pain could distract Harry from the severity of it all and he could be dying without feeling or knowing a thing,’ Tom concluded. Tom brushed Harry’s hair from his eyes and Harry trembled, breathing slowing down again. It was slowly ebbing away.

It was over.

Harry panted and pressed his face into the palm of Tom’s hand, seeking out his lover’s comfort. Harry couldn’t come up with the fact that Tom had to put up a strong façade in front of others, he didn’t have the sense to think about that just yet. He just had to remind himself what he was doing this for.

Their Healer stared at them for a long time, and Tom temporarily looked at Harry and made a couple of hushing noises, his hands so cool and gentle on Harry’s clammy skin. It was a display of affection the man in front of them was not supposed to see, a display that would later on cost them.

The Healer cleared his throat, his brown eyes gazing into Tom’s and his honey colored hair falling over his forehead. He was handsome, truly a beautiful specimen of the male gender. His name was Cedric Diggory and they used to go to school with him. The only reason Tom had hired Cedric as their Healer, was because Harry trusted him.

But there was something right now that displeased Tom, he couldn’t put his finger on it...

‘But at the same time the pain can make him delirious,’ Cedric continued and Tom paid mindful attention to what he was saying. ‘I do not know how Harry feels about having a child, but… He may possibly wind up doing something reckless. I think it would be for the best if he’d were to stay inside the manor, in bed for as much as possible. I would have to keep a closer eye on him…’

Something about that thought displeased Tom. He frowned, about to protest but when Harry sighed and closed his eyes, utterly exhausted by what had just happened, Tom knew that denying Harry of medical care because he was too possessive was not right. He’d just have to keep a close eye on the Healer in return…

Cedric looked a bit uncomfortable for a moment, and then he added, '...I wouldn't recommend intimacy. Ehrm, penetrative, that is.'

Cedric couldn't look Tom in the eye – that was a piece of news he normally could bring professionally, but to acknowledge his Minister was sexually active could be considered disrespectful. Thankfully, the male didn't seem to be upset.

Tom nodded, and then considered Harry a bit longer.

‘There must be something we can do to help him,’ Tom mused, mindful of the amount of sleepless nights they’d have. ‘What if we were to reposition my child?’ Tom asked.

Cedric frowned. ‘Sir, you do realize that it is _attached_ to-’

‘I meant bodily. They often turn around inside, don’t they? You said it yourself, they even kick. What if we were to turn my child around, bodily, so he were to kick Harry’s abdominal wall instead of his organs?’

‘Brilliant,’ Harry ground out and both men looked at him as though they had forgotten he was there. ‘Are you going to reach inside of me, or should I do it myself? Just cut me open for a bit and hope for the best?’

Their Healer seemed shocked that Harry dared to talk to himlike this, but he was even more shocked to see that Tom didn’t do much besides glaring at his lover. How interesting…

‘Our Lord… does have a point,’ he tentatively said and blue and green eyes turned to him, both looking irritated and making him gulp nervously. ‘We could try to distract your child with magic to make it turn, it’s proven that children are drawn to their parent’s magic. It’s why your child tries to feed off your own magic, Harry. Because it’s growing its own magical core.’

Harry huffed and put his arms around himself again as if protecting him from the Healer’s judgment. Tom hummed.

‘Right now that is the only kind of magic your child feels, save from mine every now and then. Magical children are different from their Muggle peers – they can sense their parents better. I’m sure that if our Lord were to give this child some of his own magic every now and then, your child’d be more calm…’

Cedric stopped talking for a moment and he regarded Harry’s stomach. It was nice and round already, but not as big as it could be. Not enough time had passed yet to… Tom cleared his throat and Cedric’s eyes instantly went up, blinking furiously. In that small moment where they had thought something had been wrong, Harry realized two things he hadn’t before; Tom was honestly concerned about him and their child.

‘We shall leave now. Thank you,’ Tom said icily. He took Harry’s hand and helped him to his feet, and Harry glanced over his shoulder to look at Cedric while he walked away with Tom on shaky legs.

The second thing Harry had found out? Tom had the potential of becoming positively dangerous, were there anything wrong with either one of them.

* * *

 Tom was squeezing his hand.

It wasn’t like the man was nervous or anything, but his eyes seemed almost eerily focused on Cedric whose hands were pressed against Harry’s round stomach, and were illuminated by the magic he was using. Harry couldn’t really blame him when he felt the exact same thing.

They had both decided they wanted to know what gender their child was, though there really hadn’t been any kind of discussion about it. They both had their own reasons to be curious.

Harry wanted to know because he wanted to prepare things for when it was finally there – clothes, a room, toys, those kinds of things – and Tom because… well. He was obsessed with his heir. If there was any possibility of gaining more information about his child, then he would do whatever it took.

Harry had almost forgotten what it had been like for Tom to be utterly fascinated by something when so many mysteries to others had been solved so easily by the man himself. And yet it was amusing, really, because although pregnancy was something so very normal and Tom had never shown any interest in the entire process with other people, he was amazed with everything Harry went through.

It was their 22th week. Cedric had said it was a perfect moment to find out the gender and Harry had been looking forward to this for almost a week – Tom had taken the day off, something he never did no matter what. That small effort alone gave Harry hope, and made Harry feel loved. He wasn't alone in this.

‘Well?’ Tom asked, sounding rather impatient. He was sitting on the edge of their bed, right next to Harry, who lied on his back so the Healer would have easy access to his stomach.

‘Almost, my Lord,’ Cedric replied with a nervous smile. Harry squeezed Tom’s hand, watching as the man looked at him before looking back at Harry’s stomach as though he would find all the answers there himself.

The Healer moved his hands on the lower side of Harry’s stomach and Harry shifted, uncomfortable with the touch of his hands. Although he knew it was necessary, he wasn’t that fond of touching and it was strange a man other than Tom was touching him in an intimate space like that. His unease didn’t go unnoticed by Tom, who narrowed his eyes in irritation. Harry figured the only reason Cedric was still in one piece was because Tom was so eager to find out.

His fingers slowly slid even lower and whereas Harry jumped, Tom abruptly rose to his feet, towering over Cedric.

‘What the hell do you think you’re doing?’ he almost growled.

‘I- I’m just checking if his other organs are alright, my Lor-’

‘Do you recall me asking for that?’

‘No sir,’ Cedric said, sounding genuinely scared. Harry sat up a bit, grabbing Tom’s hand. Tom’s head whipped around and he glared at him.

‘What?’ he barked, irritably. Harry bit his lip and just stared at him, and slowly, the Minister relaxed a bit and sank back down to the bed. Now that Harry was sitting up Tom sat behind him, holding his upper arm possessively.

The Healer hesitated before he touched Harry’s belly again and it maybe took him two minutes before he hummed to himself and glanced up at the odd couple.

‘It’s a boy,’ he stated with an unsure smile. Tom tensed behind Harry, and Harry was unsure what it meant. He himself hadn’t really preferred a gender over the other – but still.

‘A… a boy?’ he parroted, as he couldn’t help but smile, ‘we’re getting a boy?’

The Healer nodded, still not looking comfortable.

‘I- I should go,’ the man stammered and Harry watched as he nearly ran from the room.

Harry blinked in confusion but couldn’t be bothered too much. Instead he just turned around and instantly understood why the Healer had been feeling uncomfortable.

Tom had never smiled this brightly before.


	4. The Only Exception

**To Build A Home**

Chapter 4

**The Only Exception**

_'Maybe I know, somewhere deep in my soul, that love never lasts_  
And we've got to find other ways to make it alone or keep a straight face  
And I've always lived like this; keeping a comfortable distance  
And up until now I had sworn to myself that I'm content with loneliness  
Because none of it was ever worth the risk, well you are the only exception'

Being a couch potato obviously was not Harry's thing.

He got up, paced, scowled at his guard, and then sat down again. He stared out of the window, lost his interest in the newspapers (they were starting to write about Harry, about his severe case of Dragonpox which was a load of bullshit, that Tom had given as a statement on Harry's behalf as to why he was not showing up to Quidditch practice and the upcoming games), couldn't find any interesting books to read, and there was just nothing to _do_ but wait until Tom would come home.

It didn't sit well with Harry. He wasn't the type of person to be content with staying inside for long periods of time with nothing to do, and he definitely wasn't the type of person to lie in bed all day. Fair enough, he could enjoy a lazy day in, but to stay home for so many weeks to come...

Harry sucked on his bottom lip, reaching for parchment and a quill. Maybe he could... Yes, maybe he could do something after all. Harry smiled as he closed his eyes and started envisioning a perfect nursery, and then started writing.

* * *

 

That evening, a few hours after having had dinner, Harry sat in the tub with a soft smile on his face, his belly peeking out from the bubbles. He was growing with each day and he no longer saw himself as something weird. It still amazed him, actually, and he caressed his stomach in thought.

A boy. He – no, they – were getting a baby boy, who was currently kicking. Luckily they had managed to turn him around, so indeed he wouldn't be damaging Harry from the inside as much as he could.

‘Alright baby boy,’ he mumbled as he sat up with some difficulty, ‘daddy has to wash his hair so- _ow_!’

He brought a hand to his ribs and winced. He kicked _hard_.

‘Having conversations with him already?’ Harry’s head whipped around at the sound of Tom’s voice, not even noticing how he protectively wrapped his arms around his stomach.

‘What do you want?’ he huffed. He felt like everyone was babysitting him, with the way they constantly checked up on Harry to see if he was okay, if he wasn't doing anything to damage the baby. It was unfair and uncalled for, because Harry could fend for himself, and he would never risk losing his baby.

Tom regarded him with mild interest, his arms folded over his chest and his hip leaning against the doorway. He had an eyebrow cocked up – obviously, he had caught on with Harry's mood.

‘Your back hurts, doesn’t it?’ Tom stated dryly. He conjured a bottle of lotion from his back pocket and held it up, and Harry sighed and felt his shoulders relax. Yes, his back _did_ hurt like a motherfucker, as did his feet. Maybe that was also another reason why he'd been so pissy lately.

‘Yeah,’ he replied uselessly, watching as Tom locked the door behind him and knelt next to the tub. They stared at each other, until Harry realized he should turn around. Tom’s fingers were gentle on his skin and a sigh escaped his lips. His own hands caressed his round belly.

At times like this, when Tom told him to lie back down and soothed him, Harry felt small, and childish almost. His toes wriggled in the water and he closed his eyes as he felt his muscles give in to Tom's clever touches. Harry couldn't for the life of him understand why, but he suddenly had this stinging feeling in his nose whenever he was close to tears. Damned hormones, why would this make him cry? Why was he so emotional as of late?

‘What is it?’ Tom asked as soon as Harry sniffled the third time. Harry didn’t understand why, but the mere sound of Tom's voice only made it worse. He stubbornly rubbed at his eyes but it was too late – Tom had already seen the tears. His hands had stopped moving on Harry’s back.

‘Are you hurt?’

That was always the first thing Tom asked when he caught sight of Harry’s tears, which were probably just as rare as a Phoenix’s. Tom had a hard time understanding being hurt mentally could be as bad as physical hurt, always had.

‘I’m fine,’ Harry choked out, ‘really, he just kicked hard-’

‘Harry.’

Tom took hold of Harry’s chin and he stared him in the eye.

‘I’m sorry, for snapping at you like that, that’s all,’ Harry mumbled as soon as he realized Tom had seen through his lie. He thought he saw a flicker of irritation in Tom’s eyes, but it was quickly replaced by something he could call recognition. The good – and sometimes bad – thing about Tom’s eyes was that they always seemed to give him away. He could almost see Tom’s mind working while his face didn’t move a muscle.

‘You’re having mood swings,’ Tom concluded as he smoothed Harry’s hair back. Harry just stared at him before taking Tom’s hand and placing it on his stomach.

‘I think he likes it when I’m in the water, he keeps moving around,’ Harry offered randomly, the subject of his own behavior making him uncomfortable, ‘here, you should feel-’

Almost on cue, he kicked again and Harry winced. It felt like he was kicked square in the ribs, but it was difficult to focus on the pain when that look of utter amazement came over Tom’s features.

Oh, right, Harry suddenly remembered, Tom had never felt it before. He was too occupied during the day with all the meetings he had to attend and whatever else he was doing, and when he got home he ate dinner with Harry and they’d head to bed. Harry forgot all about telling Tom these things because it was almost like his brain expected Tom to already know. Tom always knew everything.

‘Does he kick often?’ Tom asked, fascinated with Harry’s belly.

‘Yeah, he just-’ Harry winced again and forced himself to smile when Tom temporarily tore his eyes away and glanced at Harry ‘- he just kicks really hard. It hurts. But I'm glad he turned this time.’

‘I can feel that,’ Tom agreed and Harry shifted when Tom’s hands moved lower.

‘Have you been using your healing salves?’ Stupid question. The lack of stretch marks on Harry’s swollen stomach should already answer that. Tom just wanted to hear that Harry took proper care of himself.

‘Yeah. I – uh, the water’s cold,’ he said awkwardly but Tom didn’t budge, so he added; ‘so I’m getting out.’

Tom still didn’t move away.

‘Tom? I need you to go-’

‘I’ll help you out,’ he offered and stood up, grabbing a towel. ‘Wouldn’t want to risk you slipping.’

Harry’s face flushed. They both knew that wasn’t the real reason.

Harry also knew that they weren't supposed to have penetrative sex until the baby was born, however, there were lots of other things they could do... if they'd get Harry in the proper position.

‘Right,’ he muttered. He pushed himself up and Tom supported him by the arm, eyes roaming shamelessly over Harry impregnated body. He hadn’t gotten the chance to wash his hair yet, so he would have to do it in the morning.

Harry shivered and Tom placed a towel on his shoulders, pulling him closer. His stomach bumped into him first, and his bare toes brushed against the tips of Tom’s shoes.

‘Are you cold?’ Tom asked, voice nothing above a whisper. Harry nodded and shivered again, involuntarily.

‘Do you want me to make it better?’

‘Do you think you can?’ Harry answered. Harry was still filled with so many hormones all at the same time – but he was capable of playing their old cat and mouse game. He liked making Tom work for it, where was the fun in rolling over and just taking it? And besides that, he knew that Tom wouldn't have it any other way.

And this was one of the times where they both wanted to make it count.

Tom chuckled, licking his lips, his fingertips brushing over Harry's lips. ‘Given to your reactions last time, I think I am quite capable.’

Fair enough, Harry wanted to say, but instead he sighed and looked away. His body was still dripping wet and very much naked, and he attempted to wrap his towel around his waist for as much as that was possible. He glanced up at Tom through his lashes and smirked.

‘I don’t know about you,’ Harry said, a suggestive tone to his voice, ‘but I’m going to bed. I don’t want to catch a cold.’

He turned around and inwardly applauded at how even his voice was, but that feeling of victory was short lived when Tom’s arm wrapped around his chest, the other one settling on his stomach. He could feel Tom’s hard, clothed manhood pressing against the small of his back.

‘Tom,’ he started, but stopped when the Dark Lord pressed his mouth against his neck while his hands caressed Harry’s pale body. Harry bit his lip while arousal washed over him.

‘It’s amazing,’ Tom mumbled, ‘how fast you go from irritation to sadness to happiness to embarrassment…’ his hand trailed down and grabbed hold of Harry’s swollen manhood, ‘to _this_.’

Harry resisted the urge to moan.

‘Not here,’ he breathed instead, ‘I… my feet – t-they hurt,’ he added lamely. Tom chuckled in amusement.

‘And we don’t want that,’ he said softly in his ear, ‘do we, Harry?’

He just shook his head, incapable of speaking when Tom was fisting his cock like that. His breaths came out in raspy puffs, while his heartbeat sped up and his body nearly doubled over. His knees were shaky while Tom worked his hand quickly up and down his shaft.

‘A-Ah…’

‘It’s been too long, hasn’t it?’ Tom asked softly, not really expecting an answer. ‘Our boy seems to be taking up all of your attention.’

‘Tom- I’m… uhn…’

‘But he won’t have to worry,’ Tom whispered in his ear, as though it was some sort of secret, ‘I’ll take great care of his daddy for him.’

It was all just too much. The pent up frustration, not having been capable of doing anything remotely more than kissing these past days, Tom’s voice, his _hand_ – Harry came with a gasp and Tom had to hold him up as his knees finally buckled, entire body trembling. Even when Tom apparated them into the bedroom and gazed at him with hungry eyes as he licked his own fingers slowly, _sensually_ clean, all Harry could do was sink down on the bed in a weak attempt to calm down. His thighs were quivering, just like his lips. He must have left his glasses in the bathroom, because only now did he notice how blurry his sight really was.

His chin got lifted and Tom’s lips pressed against his own – the taste of his own essence still on his lips. He moaned, softly, when Tom’s hands started playing with his still sensitive nipples.

No matter how often they did it, Harry could never get used to the almost vulnerable state Tom forced him into. And then there was his belly, which recently always got in the way…

He backed up on the bed and Tom followed his movements, not once ceasing their kissing. Harry’s bare stomach brushed against Tom’s clothed, flat one.

He envied Tom for still having a flat stomach. Although Harry knew he would lose a lot of weight after giving birth to their boy it didn’t change the fact that Harry felt more unattractive than ever.

‘Fuck, look at you,’ Tom breathed from above him as though he read Harry’s mind. Harry tried to turn his head away in shame but all that resulted into was Tom kissing him again, harder.

‘I am going to make love to you,’ Tom said and Harry made a noise of protest which Tom instantly dismissed.

‘I am going to pin you to this bed and I’m going to make you feel so good, you won’t even be capable of speaking a single word except for my name. You’ll want nothing more, Harry Potter,’ he leaned down and pressed his mouth against Harry’s neck, ‘than me inside of you, claiming what is rightfully mine.’

‘S-Shut up,’ Harry stuttered, breath shaky as those talented hands ran over his body, ‘you don’t-’

The hand on Harry’s hip tightened almost painfully.

‘Yes I do,’ Tom stated with amazing certainty in his voice, ‘I _own_ you. Your body belongs to mine, your very heart is in my hold and your _soul_ is connected with mine. And there is nothing you can do to change that.’

Harry’s eyes widened at that. What had made Tom like this? He usually didn’t really say too much when they were about to have sex – he always used his mouth for other things like kissing Harry.

‘You’re mine too,’ he replied when he finally gathered himself and Tom moaned against Harry’s throat when he ran his hands through his short locks. Tom loved it when Harry touched his hair.

‘Yes,’ he agreed, ‘yes I am. Yours. And you’re mine.’ Harry gasped when Tom’s hands flicked his sensitive nipples and closed his eyes, arching his back. His stomach brushed against Tom’s chest.

‘You’re _killing_ me,’ Tom murmured when his mouth kissed the center of Harry’s stomach. ‘Fuck, just…’

‘Shut the hell up,’ Harry demanded again and he pulled Tom up to kiss him again. Tom groaned into his mouth when Harry’s knee brushed against his crotch and he shamelessly rocked himself against it. It still amazed Harry how much power he really had over Tom – what he did to him. Just knowing that he was the only one who could make this Godlike person, who was so untouchable and perfect, unwind like this…

‘Take your shirt off,’ Harry breathed, ‘this is not fair.’

Tom laughed hoarsely against his cheek. Both his hands were cradling Harry’s stomach.

‘Just tell me what you want, Harry,’ Tom purred into his ear, ‘tell me you want me to fu-’

‘What I _want_ is for you to take your stupid shirt off before I get sick of hearing you talk and take care of _myself._ ’

‘Can I watch when you do?’

Harry scowled and Tom leaned down for another kiss.

Yeah, they couldn't go all the way. But this would be good enough for now.

* * *

 

Days seemed to pass even slower than usual now that Harry was bedridden.

Harry lied curled up on the bed when Tom came home early from work, his eyebrows knitted together with a worried expression.

‘What’s wrong?’ Tom murmured softly. He dropped his suitcase, took off his coat, sat down on the bedside and brushed Harry’s hair from his eyes, hearing him sigh pitifully.

‘Cramps,’ Harry murmured. He winced and his eyebrows knitted together as another one overcame him, his hand gripping the sheets tightly. Tom watched as Harry’s knuckles turned white, listening as Harry whined.

‘Come on, I’ll help you ease the pain.’

Harry groaned and reluctantly rolled onto his back, shivering when Tom’s pale hands pulled up his shirt. He made another pained noise and Tom paused, glancing up at Harry. There was sweat beading up at his brow and his face was flushed, probably from having tried so hard to fight the pain.

Tom placed his hands on Harry’s belly and closed his eyes, focusing his magic in his hands. Harry keened.

‘You know the spell,’ Tom said absentmindedly as he watched Harry's face slowly relax. ‘Why don’t you do it yourself?’

Harry shook his head. ‘It works better when you do it,’ he replied. When he noticed the cocky smirk on Tom’s face he huffed. ‘Not because you’re better at it. He doesn’t want to accept more of my magic than necessary, like he knows that if he refuses to he’ll get yours instead. I think it’s because it makes him feel connected with you.’

Tom’s eyebrows rose and Harry sighed.

‘It’s just – he’s growing inside of me. He’s feeding off my body and magic 24/7. Your magic soothes him because it’s like a treat.’

‘How poetic of you,’ Tom drawled and then he chuckled.  
  
Harry stuck out his tongue.

* * *

 

Week 27.

Harry was sitting in between Tom’s legs, his back resting against his chest. They sat in bed, and Tom was softly pressing his hand against Harry’s stomach.

Their baby pressed back, from inside of Harry.

Tom lessened the pressure and almost experimentally pressed down on the opposite side, and only a few seconds later their child pressed back again.

‘That’s amazing,’ Tom mumbled from behind Harry as he repeated the process several times. Lately, all he had been doing was touch Harry’s stomach. Harry wondered how Tom would combine his work with their child when he was finally there, if Tom would be just as fascinated with the boy outside of Harry.

‘Yeah,’ Harry agreed with him. Although Tom’s amazement amused him, he wholly understood it.

Tom shifted a bit, sitting straighter up while Harry slouched down a bit. He was strangely relaxed; perfectly aware of Tom’s presence, his calm breathing and the touch of his hands yet not flustered at all. They hadn’t even gotten dressed yet, they were still naked after their previous love making and only the sheets covered up their bodies.

Harry’s elbows were resting on Tom’s thighs and his hands were on top of Tom’s.

‘You know,’ Harry started softly as if he didn’t want to disturb Tom’s observations, ‘I didn’t fully understand I actually had a living being inside of me until I felt him kick me for the first time. It may be stupid, but to me that was like the first sign of life.’

Tom hummed, his chin resting at the crown of Harry’s head.

‘No, it’s not stupid at all,’ the man replied from behind Harry, ‘it makes perfect sense. When you allowed me to feel him move inside of you for the first time it was… special. I can only imagine what it’s like to actually have him growing inside of you.’

‘It’s uncomfortable, but you’ll get used to it,’ Harry retorted with mild amusement, smiling as Tom chuckled.

‘You’re honestly perfect,’ Tom said in his ear as he pressed a soft kiss against that, ‘do you know that? You’re beautiful, you’re talented, you’re unique-’

Harry snorted. ‘Everyone is unique. That's kind of a paradox, isn't it, if you think about it? What's so special about being unique if -’

Tom huffed, and Harry paused mid-sentence. Yeah, he supposed nothing was special about being unique, in a world where everything was already done at least once by someone on the other side of the world. But that hadn't been the subject at hand and although Harry hadn't done it knowingly, he had tried to lead the conversation away from himself being the main subject. Harry wasn't fishing for compliments when he said he thought he wasn't so special after all, he genuinely didn't see anything different about himself.

‘But no one is like you. I think you may very well be the very first male to ever have become pregnant.’

Good point, Harry supposed, but that was the only thing that was out of the ordinary.

Harry sighed. ‘Being pregnant by itself is not that special,’ he said, ‘and I’m _not_ beautiful, I’m fat-’

‘-you’re carrying our child-’

‘-and my hair constantly sticks in all kinds of directions-’

‘-I like your hair, it looks like I just finished running my hands through it-’

‘-and I’m _short_ -’

‘-you’re not short of anything.’ Harry huffed, but didn’t say anything. He knew he couldn’t win an argument with Tom, even if he truly put his heart into it. Tom’s lips pressed against his cheek.

‘Calm down, you know what the Healer said about stress. And, if it makes you feel any better, I’ll run us a bath. He likes that, doesn’t he?’ Harry didn’t instantly reply, once again baffled by how caring the other male was. He never had been like that – it was all so very confusing.

‘You’ve changed,’ Harry mumbled to himself and Tom’s hands stopped moving on his round stomach.

‘Have I?’ he asked, sounding mildly interested.

‘You’re… I don’t know. _Caring_. Less cold, I guess.’ Tom seemed to hesitate behind him, almost as though he didn’t know what to say. That wasn't a thing that happened too often and it only seemed to prove Harry's point.

‘Is that a bad thing?’ he finally asked. His voice was even and he didn’t sound self-conscious at all; it was almost like he assumed it wasn’t, which he was right in, Harry guessed. It was just different, dealing with this new Tom.

‘No,’ Harry honestly replied, ‘but I don’t know if it’s really _you_.’

He glanced at Tom’s large hands, and his own smaller hands on top of them. ‘Because you know, you don’t have to change who you are just because we’re having - ’

‘I think that would be a great reason to change my behavior,’ Tom interrupted as he pressed down on Harry and waited for the baby to react, ‘I can’t very well go around acting like a monster in front of our child, can I? I want him to be happy – and surely he wouldn’t be if I act, as you said it, cold to him.’

This sparked Harry’s interest. Tom hadn’t been as aggressive as he used to be and he was actually a whole lot calmer. It almost sounded like… ‘You thought this through and you’re using me as a test object,’ he concluded.

Tom smirked. ‘It’s not like I’m hurting you.’

‘But Tom-’ Harry turned around and frowned at him, ‘honestly, I think you’d make a great father. You don’t have to change – not if your concern isn’t genuine. It won’t make any difference if you’re not being honest and he’ll know.’ Harry bit his lip and stared into Tom’s eyes.

Much to his surprise, Tom suddenly wrapped his arms around Harry’s body and pulled him close.

‘Thank you,’ the man mumbled into his ear, ‘truly. But I will not change anything about myself, I have just realized, and you just reminded me of it again, how very special you are to me and how I seemed to have taken that for granted. I feel this need to protect you and him – not because I think you are weak or because I think you’re incapable of doing it yourself, but because I just _have_ to. I’d like to believe we are equals and that we are only whole when we are together. And just imagining that it’s possible to create another human being from that… I don’t want to lose that. It’s too perfect.’

Harry supposed it was like Tom to see Harry as some kind of perfect being even when he wasn’t purely because Tom was utterly obsessed with him, but admitting a mistake…?

‘Are- are you okay?’ Harry stammered, unsure of what to do. Tom hummed.

‘Let’s just stay like this for a while,’ the man said in Harry’s neck. Harry somewhat relaxed and nodded, sitting on his knees between Tom’s legs.

‘Hey Tom?’ Harry said after a while.

‘What is it?’

‘I…’

_Do you feel like you could stay here, like this, forever? Just like I do?_

He found he could say none of that, even when it was on the tip of his tongue. Instead he just closed his eyes and pressed his body close to Tom’s.

‘I’m cold, that’s all.’

Tom nodded. They looked each other in the eye and for a moment it was like Tom knew exactly what Harry wanted to say earlier.

He pulled the sheets up and covered their bodies.

* * *

 

‘It’s almost done, Master Potter, sir!’

Harry blinked at the house elf, whose voice had been squeaky but not unpleasant. The house elf himself looked very pleased about how things had gone – Harry had hesitated when he had asked the house elves to paint and prepare the nursery. He was in his 34th week now, and was currently seated in the living room, reading a book on Quidditch. Next to him was a stack of books Dobby had brought him when he had asked the house elf if there were things like fairy tales in the Wizarding world.

On top of the stack laid a copy of _The Tales of Beedle the Bard._

‘Already?’ Harry asked in surprise. Tom had given the house elves specific orders to tell Harry when they were done.

The house elf nodded eagerly.

‘Would you like to see, sir? We all worked very hard on it, master Potter, sir! Minzy and Dobby especially!’ Minzy and Dobby liked each other, and they worked great together. Harry was happy for them and he nodded, allowing the house elf to take his hand and walk him to the nursery.

It was the room right next to their bedroom, but Harry was certain he’d move the crib to their bedroom for at least the first year. Just to keep a close eye on his child – he didn’t have any experience with children after all, and it was fascinating to watch someone grow like that. He wouldn’t want to miss a single moment.

They climbed the stairs and went through hallways, and Harry hated how difficult it was to walk properly. He felt like he walked like some sort of duck, now, with his swollen feet and the way his steps were uneven.

When they finally reached the nursery, Harry halted in the doorway. His breath caught in the back of his throat.

It was beautiful.

He brought a hand to his mouth and the house elves who had been adding the finishing touches jumped out of his way, humbly bowing their heads. Harry touched the crib, enjoying the feeling of the smooth wood and walked to the small window, imagining himself – or Tom – holding their child and allowing him to look outside, while he would feel the soft breeze on his skin for the very first time. He touched the soft fabric of the curtains and opened the window.

He was happy. This was beautiful. Perfect.

He looked over his shoulder at the house elves who all wore worried expressions, probably afraid Harry wouldn’t like it. How could he not like it? The walls were smooth and a beautiful blue color, much similar to the color of Tom’s eyes, and the ceiling reflected the weather outside – he figured Tom had charmed it as a surprise. It looked exactly like the ceiling of the great hall in Hogwarts.

Feeling emotional, Harry smiled.

‘Thank you so much,’ he said and the house elves all looked terribly shocked. No matter how long Harry had lived here and had been polite to them, it didn’t change how surprised they always looked when Harry showed them gratitude.

‘It’s beautiful,’ he said, and then added, ‘you may all do whatever you want to – and that’s an order. I want you to have fun today and enjoy the beautiful weather.’

The house elves looked shocked but then Dobby jumped in front of them.

‘Come on! You heard Master Harry!’

Harry smiled brightly at Dobby, and Dobby smiled back, bowed and disappeared from view. The rest of the house elves followed his example.

* * *

 

Harry was asleep, when he suddenly woke from the sound of the door creaking open. He didn’t open his eyes, but it wouldn’t have made any difference anyway. The lights remained off. Harry listened to the rustle of clothes and heard someone exhale a deep breath before the bed dipped with added weight. Large hands settled on Harry’s waist and he was pulled into a bare chest.

Tom was home.

‘You’re late again,’ Harry mumbled and Tom pressed a soft kiss between Harry’s shoulder blades. He turned around on Tom’s hold and sighed. This was the second time he came home this late.

‘Are you okay?’

Tom pressed another kiss on Harry’s forehead.

‘I’m fine, I’m just tired,’ the man said. He didn’t even taunt Harry when he buried his face in Tom’s chest.

‘Did you eat something today?’

Tom hummed and placed his chin on the crown of Harry’s head. ‘I’m fine, Harry. ’

Harry opened his mouth, wanting to say more, but deciding against it. He pressed a kiss against Tom’s collarbone and closed his eyes.

When he woke up again, Tom was already gone.


	5. Chapter 5

**  
To Build A Home**

Chapter 5

**Fairytale Gone Bad**

_'This is the end, you know.  
Lovely, the plans we had all went wrong.'_

In less than a month, their child would be there.

There were a lot of things Harry had prepared in that knowledge. Diapers, clothes, toys, blankets, bibs, bottles, storybooks neatly arranged in alphabetical order on a bookshelf in the nursery... Yet Harry still had the feeling he was missing something.

Harry couldn't quite put his finger on it, though. Maybe he was just stressing out a bit too much – nightmares of being a bad father had been something that had occurred to him way too often, but it wasn't like he'd been able to talk to Tom about it. The past days, Tom hadn't even eaten dinner with Harry. He'd been so busy at the Ministry...

A sigh escaped Harry's lips as he absentmindedly traced the cream colored curtains, the fabric soft, smelling clean. It was a beautiful day, hopefully he'd be able to go outside to sit out in the sun. Autumn leaves were falling from the trees and the view was beautiful, timeless like an old painting. Harry thought he had done rather well choosing this room. When their boy was old enough to, he would learn to appreciate the view.

He was certain that things would be great. Tom was probably just working ahead, so he'd be able to take it easy when their boy was finally born...

‘Potter.’

Harry looked over his shoulder to see Bellatrix Lestrange standing in the doorway, arms crossed over her chest. She seemed so out of place in this light, innocent room with her dark clothes, black hair and heavy make up. Harry didn’t particularly like her and she didn’t seem to be very fond of Harry in return, but she had accepted he was important to her Lord and she was willing to do anything for Tom.

Right now she was filling in for Harry's usual guard, who was on sick leave. Ironically, he had a bad case of Dragon Pox.

Turning around, Harry nodded at her in acknowledgment.

‘Hey,’ he started politely, ‘is there something wrong?’

The Death Eaters didn’t really speak to him unless Tom wanted them to deliver him a message. They were soldiers, after all, not friends nor friendly people. Harry could respect that.

‘Lord Voldemort requested me to accompany you to your appointment with Diggory.’ Harry blinked at her, until he gave her a curt nod. That was right; ever since Tom had seen how Diggory’s hands had lingered on Harry’s skin a little longer than necessary, he had never let Harry go alone to him at all. Usually he had always managed to go with Harry himself and this was the first time he actually asked someone else to go with Harry. Harry could see that Bellatrix was taking her job very seriously, because her face was an indifferent mask. She usually never masked her emotions unless she was doing something important, where she couldn’t risk her emotions getting the best of her.

Insane woman.

‘Do you know when To- our Lord is returning from the Ministry?’ Out of respect for Tom, he didn’t speak his first name in front of the Death Eaters. For all they knew, Tom had been born with the title of Minister of Magic. They didn’t dare to question anything that was related to him.

‘I can’t say,’ Bellatrix stated haughtily, ‘he is currently on his way to a meeting with the Muggle Prime Minister.’

Harry frowned. ‘But isn’t the Minister of Magic supposed to only meet with the Muggle Prime Minister when something horrible has happened?’

She bristled and her emotions got through her mask for a moment. ‘Potter, don’t you _read_ the newspapers?! Barty Crouch Junior has escaped Azkaban three weeks ago! Rumor has it he has already infiltrated the Death Eater army!’

‘Who?’ Harry stupidly asked, while Bellatrix’ eyes widened.

‘You are joking, right?’ she looked as though she was ready to slap him in the face, ‘you have got to be. There’s no way-’

‘I honestly don’t know who he is,’ Harry said, growing irritated by her behavior, ‘but is that the reason why our Minister has been on the Ministry 19 hours a day?’ She nodded and Harry sighed. So _that_ had been bothering Tom. He had been wanting to ask Tom, but the man all but collapsed in bed when he came home at night and he was already gone by the time Harry woke up.

He ran a hand through his hair.

‘Let’s just go,’ he mumbled, not wanting to be in her presence any longer. She was a beautiful woman, truthfully, but Harry couldn’t for the life of him understand how mister Lestrange managed to live with her. Sometimes he wondered if most men were just so shallow to be grateful to be in the presence of a demon, as long as it was a beautiful one.

She nodded, quite obviously wanting to continue talking, but deciding against it. She walked next to Harry and Harry secretly listened to the sound of her footsteps. He wondered what it would be like, wearing such high heels; it all seemed so painful. His toes curled inside of his socks at the very thought of it but he said nothing of it.

Harry knocked on the door of Diggory’s bedroom and it instantly opened; the man smiled at Harry and looked momentarily disappointed at the sight of Bellatrix. Harry frowned, but thought nothing of it.

‘Isn’t Lord Riddle accompanying you today, Harry?’

Bellatrix’ eyebrow rose.

‘Am I not good enough for you?’ she huffed and Harry watched as Diggory winced.

‘Of course you are good enough, Madame Lestrange,’ he said as he lead Harry to the bed and instructed him to lie down, ‘I was merely surprised to be graced with your presence today.’

Bellatrix opened her mouth, but the moment she wanted to say something the sound of an explosion shocked them all. In that moment, several things happened. Harry yelped in pain when the baby kicked him , Diggory jumped up and Bellatrix’ ‘Protego!’ cast some sort of bubble over her and Harry. She sneered at Diggory and looked much like a ruffled cat.

There were screams downstairs and Harry's eyes frantically darted across the room.

‘What the fuck is going on!?’ she snarled at Diggory, voicing Harry's thoughts. She wasn't letting the shield down and Harry knew he was advised not to use magic much, but this was embarrassing, to have someone else cast a shield over him like he was some child. Diggory's mouth opened and closed and he looked like a fish out of water.

Feeling the need to defend the man, Harry pushed at Bellatrix' arm and she scowled before lowering the shield, at last. She still pointed her wand at the Healer, though.

‘Leave him alone,’ he demanded. Bellatrix looked like she wanted to hex Harry too but got distracted by a loud yell of one of the other Death Eaters, black hair whipping around her face as she turned her head.

‘Go,’ Harry snapped, ‘go! You’re supposed to protect me, aren’t you?! Then defend our home!’

She seemed to hesitate and glanced at Diggory. Obviously she didn't trust him, but Harry had this weird feeling in his gut, like something was about to happen, something bad. Just an attack inside their home alone meant that their enemy was strong, and very capable of sneaking past all security wards. They were gonna need all the people they could get.

‘I’m supposed to-’

‘I don’t care what you are supposed to do! I can’t defend myself without putting the baby in danger, but you can! And I have Diggory here with me – I’ll be fine!’

She frowned, but didn’t seem too eager on staying. Harry huffed.

‘Go!’ She finally nodded and turned around, running into the hallway. Harry noticed his entire body was trembling – he was afraid. He placed a hand on his stomach and took a deep breath, remembering stress wasn’t good for his baby. He told himself everything was going to be okay but he had never felt like this. He had never been so convinced that...

‘Harry,’ the Healer said. Harry turned his head and forced himself to smile, but Diggory didn’t smile. No, there was this weird… his tongue was twitching.

‘What’s wrong with your tongue?’ Harry asked, voice shaky.

Diggory laughed. It was a cruel laugh that made Harry’s eyes grow wide and he opened his mouth to scream Bellatrix’ name, try to get her back, but he was easily knocked over. A hand pressed against Harry’s mouth and he whimpered in fear.

‘Oh, I am quite alright,’ Diggory whispered in his ear, ‘but I fear that you and that _parasite_ won’t be, after I am done.’

* * *

 Bellatrix Lestrange was running through the hallways, her wild hair dancing behind around her head. There were Death Eaters running past her and she grabbed one of them, Dolohov, she recognized, by the arm and forced him to stop.

‘What’s going on?’ she hissed and Dolohov looked down at her, before glancing at the hallway.

‘It appears some idiot made some sort of bomb,’ Dolohov finally said, ‘it exploded in the kitchen and we found a few house elves and a servant dead, good thing Potter wasn’t having any of his cravings – where is Potter anyway? Aren’t you supposed to be-?’

Bellatrix shook her head, mind trying to grasp the situation. ‘Someone planted a fucking _bomb_ in the Minister’s house?’ she said incredulously, and then added as an afterthought, ‘Potter is with Diggory.’ Potter could wait, after all; he was safe with the Healer. As long as the house didn’t get blown to pieces.

Dolohov frowned at her. ‘ _Diggory?_ What – no, you must be mistaken.’

Bellatrix sneered in frustration. ‘What do you mean I must be mistaken? I _saw_ him with my own eyes, the Dark Lord told me to accompany Potter to the Healer -’

‘Lestrange.’ Dolohov grabbed her shoulders and stared down at her. ‘Where is Potter?’

‘He’s with Diggory, he told me-’

‘We just found Diggory. From the smell of it, he's been dead for days.’ Bellatrix’ eyes widened while her face paled. She had been wondering what that smell had been when Diggory had opened the door of his bedroom. Of course. He was an imposter and had infiltrated the Dark Lord’s home, somehow. Potter was in danger.

‘Poly juice potion,’ she whispered, ‘contact the Dark Lord. Now!’

Dolohov seemed to want to ask something, but she was already gone. Her heels clicked on the marble floors in her wake. Dolohov closed his eyes, trying to focus on his destination.

He apparated to the Ministry.

* * *

 Tom had just returned from his meeting with the muggle Prime Minister, when a man stormed into his office. It was Antonin Dolohov, one of his higher ranked Death Eaters, and the man looked as though he had been running. His eyebrow rose.

‘My- My lord,’ Dolohov panted. Tom noticed he didn’t bow like usual. ‘There- there is no time, you have to hurry- My Lord, there has been an attack-’

Tom’s eyes narrowed. They ought to know better than to disturb him like this. If the rebels had caused them any trouble, then they knew they should just take care of them. Idiots. Feeling himself growing irritated, he pinched the bridge of his nose.

‘Where?’

‘The manor, my Lord,’ Dolohov bowed his head, ‘there had been an explosion- several house elves and a servant got killed,’ he took a deep breath, ‘and there’s something with Potter-’

Tom strode over to him and roughly grabbed his throat, forcing him to look up.

‘What about him?’ he demanded.

Dolohov shook his head. ‘I am not sure, My Lord, Lestrange told me to immediately get you. There has been an impostor who used Poly Juice Potion – the Healer. We found him dead while Potter was meant to be having a check up-’

Tom’s eyes widened. He released Dolohov’s throat.

‘Orders, my Lord?’

The Minister disapparated, completely dismissing Dolohov and not bothering to cancel his meetings.

* * *

 There were screams, when Tom apparated back into his home, but he held no attention to them. He was running through the hallways, his nice dress shoes slipping over the floor. The entire house smelt like fire.

Imposter. Poly juice potion. It had had to be Barty Crouch Junior. There couldn’t be another person who could even think about fooling the Minister of Magic. But for how long? When had Barty Crouch Junior infiltrated his _home_ and how could Tom have been so careless to send Bellatrix in his place?

He nearly slipped when he rounded a corner and his feet stopped moving altogether.

There was a trail of blood (God, not a trail – the walls were splattered with it, it was dripping from the ceiling, so fucking much blood, why why why?) leading to a body on the ground and Bellatrix was kneeling right next to it, her wand alight while she whispered an incantation over and over.

‘Vulnera Sanentur,’ she whispered, ‘Vulnera Sanentur… Vulnera-’

Tom forced himself to walk. Bellatrix’ head perked up at the sound of his feet and she turned her head – her mascara had run out. She had been crying and her hands were covered in blood.

‘M-My Lord,’ she whimpered.

She was holding something in her arms. Tom came closer and he was sure his brilliant mind just shut down, perhaps for the first time in his entire life. For the first time, Tom Marvolo Riddle, Minister of Magic, learned just how emotional anguish sometimes could be worse than any physical pain.

His lover laid on the floor and his stomach had been ripped open.

And in Bellatrix’ arms laid their child, umbilical cord still attached to Harry's mangled insides, both not moving nor breathing.

 


	6. Shattered

 

**To Build a Home**

Chapter 6

**Shattered**

'And I've lost who I am, and I can't understand why my heart is so broken, rejecting your love without love gone wrong  
Lifeless words carry on but I know, all I know, is that the end's beginning '

When Harry opened his eyes again he didn't instantly know something was terribly wrong, against common expectation.

The first thing he did was sit up straight (and ow, now he  _did_ feel a sharp sting in his stomach) and as his eyes adjusted to the darkness, he realized it was night. Tom wasn't asleep next to him... Though that seemed like a normal thing nowadays.

In this moment of blissful ignorance, Harry thought with mild frustration that Tom was working late at the Ministry again and out of force of habit he reached down to rub his belly, only to find it was flat.

_His belly was flat._

Harry’s eyes widened as he lifted the sheets and looked down at his stomach, and what he could not see in the darkness, were the scars that had become the result of his skin knitting together with the help of magic.

For a moment, Harry just stared, vaguely convinced he was still dreaming. He had grown so accustomed to being pregnant that seeing himself like this, the way he used to be before this life changing event had occurred, was surreal. He still had more than just a few weeks left to go when he had gone to see Cedric. Had Harry already undergone C-section? Had there been any complications?

Harry's mind felt incredibly fuzzy and he blinked in confusion. He was tired, undeniably so, and his hands were shaking. Harry felt weak and it was not a feeling he knew well. He felt almost drunk.

Where was Tom, if Harry had already given birth?

_Where was his son?_

Harry rested his head back onto his pillow again and closed his eyes. He was tired, so tired... But something from the inner depths of his soul pulled at him, demanded him to get up. Harry was sure something was off, something was missing, but he was also so convinced that nothing could have happened to him that he completely missed the point.

The door opened and closed, and Tom walked in. He cast a quiet  _'Lumos'_ and the room instantly lit up, just enough to see, just enough to cast eerie shadows on his beloved's face.

Harry opened his eyes to look at Tom and his mouth was dry, he was dying for a drink.

Tom did not speak. He just gazed at Harry and he looked like he had seen a ghost. Harry couldn't see too well without his glasses but he needn't to, he could tell from Tom's body language that that nagging voice in his head had been right.

Perhaps complications during the C-section?

'What happened?' Harry asked dumbly. His voice cracked from lack of use and his tongue felt thick and heavy in his mouth. Tom did not speak – instead he walked to the corner of the room and lit a few candles, and then the light of his wand went out. There was more light in the room now and Tom was wearing his suit, still. Why did he still wear his suit?

'Tom?'

Tom seemed to pause, and then he turned again. He walked to Harry's bedside and sat by his side for a while and it  _scared_ Harry how Tom reached over and embraced him without a word. Tom  _never_ did this. He never just went up to Harry and hugged him. It was always Harry who had to initiate it...

‘Where is he?’ Harry hesitantly asked, though the feeling in his stomach didn’t leave him and in fact only seemed to grow worse, ‘weren’t we supposed to wait longer?’

Tom still didn’t say a word and Harry could feel panic rising inside of him. His weak arms started pushing at his lover's chest.

_Why was he so weak?_

‘Tom, where is he?’ Tom released Harry and for the first time, Harry couldn't figure out what went on in Tom's mind just by looking into his eyes.

‘Who was the last person you can remember seeing?’ Tom asked simply. And that was all. No teasing, no smirk, nothing that could tell Harry that this was some sort of joke. Harry opened and closed his mouth, eyebrows knitting together.

‘Cedric,’ he finally said, not understanding why Tom would ask such a question, ‘he said something, and then, I…’

He couldn’t remember what else had happened.

‘Tom, where is our baby? Where-’

‘Cedric Diggory has been found dead. He's been dead for weeks, now.’

Harry smiled nervously, but Tom’s expression didn’t change. ‘You’re- you’re kidding, right? He just spoke to me, I probably just passed out or maybe he gave me something, but he performed C-section on me already,’ he lifted the sheets as though that should prove he was right, but something horrible inside of him told him he wasn’t. 'See?'

For a moment they just stared at each other, and Harry brought a hand to his mouth, eyes widening. No… it couldn’t be…

‘Tom?’ he croaked, feeling helpless.

Tom just sat there and Harry made to get out of bed, but he remained still when Tom told him to stay where he was.

‘Your wounds haven’t completely healed,’ he said, ‘if you move around too much you’ll start bleeding again. You nearly died as well.’

‘A-as well?’ Harry parroted.

Tom released a long breath.

‘Someone pretended to be Diggory, by using Poly Juice Potion after killing him and he set off an explosion in the kitchen, to distract Bellatrix. He attacked you.’

Tom’s eyes narrowed and Harry gulped, somehow already knowing what he was going to say. 'No,' Harry started, almost pleading, 'No, don't you – Tom, no! Don't you dare tell me -'

‘He murdered our child,' Tom said anyway, because he never had been one to sugarcoat.  
  
And then, just like that, Harry experienced the worst kind of pain a person could go through.

* * *

 

Harry felt empty.

He stood in the doorway of the nursery he had created with Tom and could just barely fight the tears back as his hands caressed his stomach in thought. It wasn't round anymore, and it was an observation Harry had never expected to hurt so deeply.

His  child  had been  inside of him not too long ago, safe,  _alive_ . And now? Now their child was buried in the cold soil of the graveyard, and Harry hadn't even attended the funeral.

He sunk down to the floor, bonelessly like a puppet who's strings were cut. He wasn’t even supposed to be out of bed; Tom had gone on a murderous rampage again and Harry was sure the screams of whomever had crossed Tom’s path would always haunt him.

But the house was empty and clean now.

He was supposed to be resting, waiting until his body had fully healed but he couldn’t. He just couldn’t bring himself to do it. He couldn't possibly nestle himself in a comfortable bed while their baby, a perfect creation made out of the purest and simplest love, laid dead in a tiny casket.

There had been a moment where he honestly had believed that he could actually be a father, that this act against nature would end up right and he would have a child with Tom and that all horrible things Tom had probably done in the past and still did, had been erased by fate. That Harry wouldn’t be punished for falling in love with this man. A dry sob escaped Harry’s lips.

_Of course not._

It had been childish and foolish to even think something like that would happen. His insides had been damaged so badly that even if he had wanted to, he wouldn’t be capable of carrying a child ever again. He wouldn’t get pregnant again; Harry wouldn’t become a father. And neither would Tom Riddle.

The Minister of Magic would not have a heir.

A stab of pain went through him and he just closed his eyes and pressed his hands against his wounds, trying his best to stay strong. That was what he was supposed to be, right?

Even the knowledge Tom was obsessed with catching the murderer of their child didn’t take away Harry’s pain. It had been 9 days since he had woken up in this nightmare. It felt as though it had only happened minutes ago.

He had wanted to welcome this new life into his own. He had wanted to raise that innocent being, knowing his – their – child would have been intelligent, strong, beautiful, and he had wanted to be there to hear his first words, see him take his first steps. He knew he would have loved him, unconditionally.

He already had.

Harry gasped when another stab of pain went through him and when he touched his stomach, he realized his wounds had reopened. He was bleeding, and he watched in sick fascination as it soaked his shirt. It almost seemed to be pouring out of the wound.

He wondered what he would have looked like. Would he have had Harry’s eyes, Tom’s tall build and his hair? Or would he have had Harry’s slim, short build, Tom’s face and Harry’s hands? Harry whimpered, struggling to get up his feet. He had tainted the nursery with his own blood. How could he have ever expected Tom could have raised someone so innocent, so pure, and expect their child to remain that way? Of course, he didn’t blame Tom. He loved him with all of his heart and he knew that Tom, in his own, dark way, loved and wanted Harry at least as much. He had honestly wanted to raise his child with Tom. And he knew that Tom was just as hurt as Harry was.

The only difference was that when Harry was hurt, he felt like he was dying on the inside, while Tom  _made_ people die. Harry hadn't known for sure, but now he did. Now he knew that Tom was a murderer.

Tom had taken his victims home these past days, and had tortured them in the basement.

And shamefully above all, Harry was grateful that Tom was sparing him.

Harry could clearly remember the expression on Tom’s face when Harry took Tom’s hands and placed it on his round belly, allowing Tom to feel it kick. How he looked when Harry was having cramps. Even how he prepared Harry baths and made sure every crazy food craving was sated. He honestly had tried and he had succeeded in being gentle and caring and helpful.

But he also knew that it went against the person Tom had been for so long.

Harry cried out in pain as he stumbled through the hallways. Where was Tom? Was he in one of his meetings?

‘Tom?’ Harry asked weakly, feeling lightheaded. He slumped against a wall and took a deep breath, struggling to remain standing.

‘Tom?!’ he raised his voice, but it still came out weak and eventually he fell to the ground. He whimpered, reached into his pocket and grabbed his wand with shaky fingers. He doubted he would remain conscious for long and tried to reach deep into himself, trying to focus solely on  the most happiest memory he had.

‘Expecto Patronum,’ he said, and much to his relief a stag shot out of his wand. It gazed at him, almost expectantly.

‘Find Tom,’ he whispered and the stag almost seemed to nod before it ran off.

He closed his eyes and let darkness claim him. 

* * *

 

‘-stable now, but he has to remain in bed my Lord, or he will die. I have managed to stop most of the internal bleeding, but he has lost a lot of blood… It would be best to keep a close eye on him - ’ 

‘Then I will cancel my meetings.’

Harry awoke with a groan, appreciating the feeling of the warm bed he was resting in more than he should. He tried to roll to rest on his side, but hands instantly pushed him back on his back.

‘Potter, don’t move around too much, your wounds - ’

‘You may leave, Severus.’ The man named Severus removed his hands from Harry’s shoulders and Harry watched through half-lidded eyes as he nodded tensely and left. Tom narrowed his eyes at Harry and sat on the chair next to the bed.

‘What the hell were you thinking?’ he said and Harry winced at his tone, feeling like a child caught with its hand in the cookie jar.

‘I don’t know,’ he said, wanting to sit up but instantly being pushed down by Tom's hands, this time. ‘I’m fine,’ Harry insisted, frowning.

‘You almost died. Again. You are not fine. I can’t believe you can be that irresponsible – you knew you couldn’t leave our bedroom with your wounds, not after what he did to you!’ Harry avoided looking at him. He knew he was wrong, but that didn’t mean Tom was right in demanding him to stay inside no matter what. ‘Yeah, well, you weren’t here,’ he said softly, not sure what he meant with that.

Tom scowled at him. ‘I had business to attend to, you can’t honestly expect me to hold your  _hand_ all of the time-’

‘Stop treating me like this! You’re not the only one who has lost his child, Tom! Maybe I do need comfort, and maybe for once you could stop and think about how I have feelings too!’

They glared at one another for a while, before Harry finally turned his head away, a horrible, hollow feeling overcoming him again. He bit his lower lip.

‘You’re right,’ Tom finally admitted and he sat on the edge of Harry’s bed, running his hands through Harry’s hair, ‘I’m sor-’

‘Don’t,’ Harry said, closing his eyes to hide the tears that were already brimming up in them, ‘just don’t. Please, just…’ he trailed off, unsure of what he wanted other than for Tom to just hold him, knowing that with his wounds they couldn’t even do that without risking Harry to start bleeding again.

‘You went to the nursery,’ Tom said despite Harry’s plead, ‘your blood was all over the place.’

Harry didn’t say anything.

‘Why there?’

He still didn’t reply in fear of how his voice might sound if he were to speak. Tom hadn’t spoken to him this much since Diggory had attacked him, and even though he knew that Tom was hurt as well – he could notice it by the way Tom kept losing his temper – he hadn’t heard Tom openly discuss their son’s death.

He swallowed thickly and sniffed.

‘I was wondering what kind of fathers we would be,’ Harry finally whispered. The stroking of his hair stopped. ‘And I- I was wondering if maybe he’d look like you, or me, if he’d-’ a sob escaped Harry’s mouth but he stubbornly kept talking ‘- if he’d be as smart as you were, if he’d like Quidditch -’ another sob, and then suddenly tears came as well ‘- what his first- first words would be, his first steps…’

He pressed a hand against his mouth, to stifle the sobs and hiccups that erupted from him, but it was no use. He couldn’t stop himself from crying even if he wanted to – crying in loss, in utter loneliness as his lover just sat there and did nothing to comfort him, because there was nothing that could comfort them. And it was stupid, it may even seem ridiculous to people who didn’t understand because this child hadn’t even been born, but Harry had already loved it so much. It had grown inside of him, it had responded to Tom’s voice, twisting and turning inside of Harry, it had kicked and it had seemed as though it had been listening…

‘And then I realized,’ Harry said in a shaky voice, ‘that we hadn’t even named him yet. We hadn’t even… I… I…’

‘Harry,’ Tom said, almost gently, as he pulled Harry against his chest, despite the fact that Harry shouldn’t move around too much, ‘Harry, stop it, you-’

‘Don’t you even care? Doesn’t it hurt you?’ Harry said between sobs and gasps and hiccups as he fisted Tom’s shirt, ‘why aren’t you… Tom, I-’

Tom just tightened his grip on Harry to the point where it was almost becoming painful, but Harry let him. He wanted him to –  _needed_ him to. He didn’t expect Tom to cry at all, and the elder male didn’t. He just held Harry tightly to his chest, taking deep breaths.

Harry would never realize that in that moment, Tom Riddle, better known as Lord Voldemort, was torn between the grateful feeling that went through every inch of his being at having been capable of saving his lover’s life, and mourning over the loss of what should have been his son – a perfect being, created out of him and his lover.

Harry would never realize that in that moment, a dangerous being awakened in Tom Riddle, at the mere sight of Harry’s tears.

 


	7. Black Beauty

**To Build A Home**

Chapter 7

**Black Beauty**

'' Oh, what can I do?   
To turn you on or get through you   
Oh, what can I do?   
Life is beautiful but you don't have a clue   
Sun and ocean blue   
Their magnificence, it don't make sense to you''

Harry was already in bed by the time Tom returned from the Ministry, and the lights were all off. It was something that wasn’t entirely uncommon these days and although it drove Tom on edge, he couldn’t bring himself to talk to Harry. Harry reminded him of pain, of hurt, and the Ministry didn’t. The choice was easily made.

Tom had never felt this many emotions all at once before.

All they did was fight or sit together in silence. There was always some sort of tension in the air, unspoken words lingering between them even though everything had been said and done. Something in Tom had darkened at what he had seen that day, in their hallway. Harry's blood had been mopped off the floors and scrubbed off the walls, their child was put to rest in the finest coffin made in his tiny size, a funeral only Tom had attended. He had Obliviated everyone, except for Harry, who had known about the child, even Harry's friends. He hadn't been able to bring himself to tell the obnoxious Mudblood and her Weasley lover the truth even though Harry would have preferred it, and Harry, well, he hadn't even been able to get himself out of the manor. Everyone still thought that Harry was struck with Dragonpox. 

Tom just couldn't deal with people sticking their noses in their private lives. Not now.

It had been ridiculously long since he had kissed the younger male, but Tom couldn’t bring himself to touch him. 

Tom disgusted himself.

Tom drank a glass of fire whiskey and went upstairs, but paused when he saw the door of the nursery standing open. Harry must have been there; it was where he strangely spent a lot of time, as though he enjoyed torturing himself. He would just sit on the chair next to the crib and stare in the distance, sometimes just doing that for hours. 

‘ _Harry, come, you need to go to bed.’_

_Green eyes slowly trailed to him and Tom’s hard stare must have intimidated or hurt him, because he instantly looked away._

‘ _I’ll be up in a minute,’ Harry replied in a voice that was soft and hoarse from the lack of use. Tom released a breath in irritation and grabbed Harry’s upper arm, hauling him up._

_The slap in his face was hard and painful and for a moment he just stood there, face turned to the side, hair falling in front of his blue eyes and his cheek stinging. Harry had never hit him before and he could feel indescribable anger bubbling up in him._

‘ _Don’t touch me,’ Harry said._

_Tom sneered, finding it incredibly difficult to come up with a reason why he shouldn’t hex the younger male. He rose his head and his hand trailed to his back pocket where his wand resided but it lingered in the air when he saw the look in Harry’s eyes. He looked so incredibly lost._

_He lowered his hand and Harry was staring off into space again when he left. He fell asleep in the nursery that night._

Tom walked to it with the full intention of closing it and never opening it again, but he lingered in the doorway. 

The crib was empty and it felt wrong.

It was as though his body was drawn to the room; without even thinking clearly he stepped in and closed the door behind him, light wordlessly erupting from his wand and illuminating the room brightly. He had been in this room before, truthfully. Mainly to force Harry out of it and tuck him back into bed, but he remembered almost everything was the same the first time Harry had shown him the nursery with a bright smile on his face. He had been so proud, so happy.

Tom remembered enchanting the ceiling himself. He had recalled Harry once mentioning that he had always loved the ceiling of Hogwarts and he had done it as a surprise.

The once bright sky was now dark. Whenever Harry was in the room, it started snowing. With Tom in it, it was storming and lightning made the room light up, making a thunderous sound.

There were stuffed animals in the bed, although it were only a few, and a small stuffed hippogriff with wheels under its feet – it reached Tom’s hip – stood next to it. He hadn’t actually  _looked_ at this room in three weeks.

_Three weeks ago Harry was still pregnant and their child was still alive._

His hands tightened on the doorknob until his knuckles turned white and his eyes narrowed dangerously as they scanned over the room. The curtains were white and the walls were blue, a stack of books right next to other side of the crib and a small chair stood beside it. Probably books Harry had prepared for their boy.

Right next to where he stood was a stain on the walls and on closer inspection he realized it was Harry’s blood. 

Tom Riddle felt anger go through him again, a feeling mixed with something he didn’t think he had ever felt before; he felt lost.

He couldn’t explain what was going through him. He had never felt helpless, and he had never been incapable of doing anything. If there hadn’t been a way for him to do something, then he would  _make_ a way. But now there wasn’t.

There was no way to return the dead, after all.

He released the doorknob and sneered, wanting to turn around and never come back to this room again. He couldn’t even stand being around Harry, not now. The Quidditch player had this certain sadness in his eyes that never seemed to leave him, making it difficult for Tom to suppress his own emotions. He couldn’t remember ever crying, as he dealt with his emotions through other, more destructive ways, but it was difficult to keep destroying things when he was running out of any. He had to pull himself together, but he couldn’t – he just couldn’t focus on his job in the Ministry, focus on comforting his lover. He was a mess.

And then, the most peculiar thing happened.

A book fell off the stack of other books. There was no one in the room, nothing that could have caused such a thing and the book innocently lied on the floor. It had opened on a random page.

Tom stared at it and then walked to it and bended down, ignoring the sick feeling in his stomach when he crouched next to the crib.

_\- Yet she was sad and cold, separated from him as by a veil. Though she had returned to the mortal world, she did not truly belong there and suffered. Finally the second brother, driven mad with hopeless longing, killed himself so as to truly join her._

_And so Death took the second brother for his own._

_But though Death searched for the third brother for many years, he was never able to find him. It was only when he attained a great age that the youngest brother finally took off-_

Tom fully sat down on the floor, flipping a few pages back.

‘The tale of the three brothers,’ he read out loud when he caught sight of the title of the short story. He could only guess this book contained multiple stories, as he couldn’t quite place why else there would be a picture of a rabbit on the other page. 

Wanting to distract himself, he kept reading.


	8. Wait

** To Build A Home **

Chapter 8

**Wait  
''** Send your dreams **  
** Where nobody hides **  
** Give your tears **  
** To tide **''**

‘ _And then he greeted Death as an old friend, and went with him gladly, and, as equals, they departed this life.’_

Tom rubbed at his eyes when he finished reading the story, backside sore from having sat on the floor for too long. He couldn’t quite wrap his mind around why Harry would’ve wanted to read such a cruel story to their child – didn’t children easily have nightmares? 

His chest suddenly felt tight at the mental image of Harry sitting here, reading a faceless, nameless child a bedtime story.

He was tired, but somehow the story was haunting him. Was it because of the fact that someone precious to him had died so very short ago, so cruelly, or was it because the ludicrous thought of being capable of fully defeating death was almost distracting him from reality? He squeezed the bridge of his nose and released a long breath.

‘Tempus,’ he murmured. Glowing digits told him it was already 4 am but the miserable feeling he felt had nothing to do with exhaustation or the self-inflicted stress he was experiencing. 

His heart hurt and he felt as though he was only a shell of the confident man he normally was but he couldn’t understand why. Could all people hurt this much? Because it was hard to imagine it was possible for people to feel the same way he did. His hand fell from his face.

Anyone but Harry.

Tom Riddle wasn’t a man to cry. He couldn’t even remember ever crying in the first place and he didn’t start now. It just wasn’t how he dealt with emotions. When he was happy, he didn’t smile openly, or at least not very often anyways. Instead he would decide to treat himself by buying a good book or spend a nice day in bed with Harry. When he was angry the source of his anger would be eliminated. When he was in love, he just…

Tom suddenly wondered if this hurt was just as difficult to fully understand as love. And that love seemed to be withering away, tainted by their pain, Tom’s anger and the wall Harry was slowly building around himself. 

He pushed himself up and the book slipped from his fingers. It fell on the ground with a soft thump but Tom couldn’t bring himself to pick it up. The letters on the cover shone at him, in the fake moonlight that came from the ceiling. He licked his lips and left the room.

When he walked into their shared bedroom he almost mechanically started undressing, put on a loose t shirt and sweats and didn’t bother cleaning up after himself. Harry’s figure was curled up in the bed in a fetal position and Tom forced himself to climb into bed. He wouldn’t –  _shouldn’t_ – push Harry (his other half?) away. He refused to be a coward any longer.

He closed his eyes and laid on his side, back turned to Harry. He couldn’t remember ever willingly putting distance in between them, before all of this happened, and it made him feel sick. Everything – it was all just too much.

Harry turned around and Tom could feel himself tense. Had he been pretending to be asleep? Did he want to talk and if so, how could Tom avoid that?

‘Tom?’ Harry asked as his fingers fisted Tom’s shirt. Tom licked his lips but didn’t turn around to face his younger lover, not yet. Not when he was feeling like this. 

‘Yes?’ he replied. 

‘I…’ Harry pressed his face in between Tom’s shoulder blades. ‘I… I love you.’

He sounded like he was choked up and he probably wanted Tom to hold him, but Tom didn’t do so. He just laid there and pretended he hadn’t heard Harry. Harry didn’t repeat himself.

* * *

 

Tom couldn't stop obsessing over Barty.

He had ordered all of his Death Eaters to find him, as soon as possible, and he had promised a grand reward for the person who did bring Barty to him. Barty and Tom went way back – he had been one of Tom's most loyal Death Eaters, and had attended all of Tom's most private and secret meetings. It had never been enough for Barty.

No, Barty had wanted to be more. Barty had wanted to be Tom's right hand – he had wanted to be the one Tom entrusted secrets with and well, when Harry got into the picture, Barty lost it.

His beloved Lord Voldemort had so easily replaced him, and his replacement had gotten a place in Voldemort's heart that he would've never obtained and that hadn't went well with Barty.

Barty was extremely cunning and Tom took him serious for that. He wasn't on Tom's level and never would be but he was smart enough to do some damage.

And damage, he did.

Tom had framed him before all of this, as soon as he had started noticing Barty's jealousy and the way he would make comments about hurting Harry. He had wanted to let Barty rot away in Azkaban but obviously Barty had broken free and he had a burning rage inside of him. His Lord, his beloved Lord had done all of that to him... He had no reason to live anymore, and what better way to spend your remaining days than to poke the devil in the ribs until you'd get burnt alive?

Tom kept bringing work home, the Ministry was in panic for the amount of damage Barty was causing. Of course no one knew he had killed the Minister's child, but the headlines in the newspapers were almost daily talking some horrendous crime Barty did.

Well, you know, horrendous to  _their_ standards. Tom thought that burning down a few bars and killing a bunch of alcoholics in the process was pretty tame compared to half of the stuff he had done himself.

Exhausted, he walked through the hallways of his home and he came across a servant.

‘My Lord, are you alright?’

And the audacity of him, to speak to Tom like that – so conversationally, and so casually interrupting his thoughts. He sneered and crucio’d him for his insolence. Of course he wasn’t alright. His cold blue eyes stared at the servant as he writhed on the floor. Making people hurt seemed to take his mind off his own pain for a while and this came naturally to him. No, ever since Harry had moved in he had made the rule to himself to never drag violence into the house, to always keep it away from Harry's view and to pretend he just had a bad temper.

‘Stop it, you’re going to kill him!!’

Arms wound around his own and Voldemort backhanded the one who had dared to touch him. He turned, magic crackling dangerously around himself.

Obviously he had broken his rule.

‘Avada Ke-’ but the Unforgiveable Curse never left his lips. Harry laid on the floor at his feet, nursing his bleeding lip. His wide green eyes bored into his and Tom suddenly seemed to see everything so _clear_. He bent down, wanting to help Harry, but Harry pushed him away with a look of disgust and hurt on his face and he watched as Harry ran away.

Tom was hyperaware of the soft, rasping breaths the servant was taking and the way the floors smelt of disinfectant, but he didn’t pay any attention to it at all.  He was furious and it was spreading through his body like a wildfire and it was corrupting his intelligent mind.

He turned around, killed and disposed of the servant, and took a scalding hot bath.

* * *

 

Harry stared at his own reflection from where he sat on the floor in front of the mirror in the corner of their bedroom, dabbing gently at his split lip. His eyes were unfocused and his ears were strained. Tom had been in the bathroom for two hours now.

To be honest, Harry wasn’t surprised at having gotten hit by Tom. He knew that it had only been an accident, but deep down he had always wondered what had made him special to Tom – what had made Tom  _not_ want to hurt Harry. But, well, it was pretty clear now.

Patience.

Harry couldn’t quite figure out if all their problems had started before Harry had gotten pregnant or only after Harry had gotten attacked. They hadn’t fought this much ever before and admittedly things had never been this bad between them. They had always had this  _connection_ .

But it now just felt like he was slowly losing Tom. And it hurt.

And Harry wasn’t stupid. Tom thought he didn’t know that Harry knew that he sometimes hurt other people, but truth was that he  _did_ . He knew that he would sometimes hex his subordinates in irritation, but…

Was it possible that Tom was a  _murderer_ ?

_That question should answer itself,_ a voice in his head instantly said,  _you've seen proof before._ _He hasn’t even been_ really  _angry at you, yet his mere irritation sometimes scares you._

They say that the best way to get to know someone is when you get into a fight with them, and Harry wasn’t quite sure if he could agree with that. He knew Tom had tried to change himself for Harry and Harry had honestly thought being gentle and caring had grown on Tom because it had gotten him closer to Harry. But obviously not.

Harry lowered his hand from his face and absentmindedly ran his hand over his stomach.

Harry also knew that Tom was hurt because they had lost their baby. Wounded animals were most dangerous.

It was almost intimidating to see one from up close.

And honestly, Harry could easily forgive Tom for hitting him in the face. Had it been other circumstances, he would gladly accept Tom’s apology and let him heal his face. Harry even knew a spell to heal his own face – it was just that he didn’t  _want_ to because this would be a reminder to him why he had grabbed a suitcase and had decided earlier to leave for a little while. Maybe it would do him good to be away from it all.

He just couldn’t be with a murdering, abusive, aggressive man no matter how much he loved him. Harry respected himself too much for that.

He rose from his position in front of the mirror and fought the sudden urge to cry. It was just so heartbreaking and he just felt so  _alone_ . He was about to close his suitcase when he realized his invisibility cloak wasn’t there, and he jumped when the door behind him suddenly slammed shut. He spun around and looked Tom in the eye.

And he was such a mess.

His hair was dripping wet and he just had a towel to keep his body from being exposed from prying eyes. He was just so  _undignified_ and it was so uncharacteristic that Harry forgot to breathe, for a couple of seconds.

‘Where are you going?’ Tom asked when he caught sight of the suitcase Harry had placed on the bed. Harry shifted on his feet and hesitated. He doubted Tom would hit him again – it was just that he knew that Tom wouldn’t take the news of Harry leaving for a little while very well.

‘Away,’ he finally admitted, ‘I can’t stay here.’

‘Because I hit you?’ Tom asked. He seemed too calm about it and Harry winced when he bit his lip out of habit.

‘No,’ he said softly, _though that had been the final straw_. ‘It’s… it’s just that you and me… I think we need to be away from each other for a while.’

Tom’s eyes were almost cruel as they stared relentlessly at Harry and he had trouble looking away from him. 

‘Do you know where my invisibility cloak is?’ he asked and Tom was about to open his mouth to answer, when his eyes suddenly widened. He brought a long fingered hand to his mouth and Harry blinked at him in confusion – _that_ look suddenly in Tom’s eyes. That one look he only had when he was trying to come up with something…

‘Of course…’ Tom murmured to himself and Harry blinked again. 

‘Tom?’

‘I… I think I just found a way to get our child back,’ Tom murmured to himself. He sounded like he couldn’t believe himself, yet that look in his eyes was so certain. Harry’s eyes grew wide.

 

 


End file.
